There is a Light That Never Goes Out
by EvilBad
Summary: Sadie Hawke is lost in an accident and assumed dead. Anders, her lover, grieves her loss, but Fenris refuses to believe she's gone for good. Just a little Hawke/Anders, mostly focusing on Fenris and his unrequited love for F!Hawke.
1. Panic

Hawke screamed.

That was what made her companions' blood run cold. Hawke never screamed, not even when the Arishok had run her through and she had dangled there like a speared fish. Not even when the High Dragon had captured her in its mouth and bit down right through the plate armor, breaking her ribs. Not even when they had found her mother's... remains.

That was how they knew something unimaginably awful had happened.

* * *

They were in the Bone Pit, looking for any miners who might have survived the High Dragon's attack. It seemed unlikely, given the charred remains outside, but Hawke had insisted on it; they were her employees, in a way. She felt responsible for them.

She would have dug her way into the caverns with her own bare hands had they not come to help her. So they came, Varric and Anders and Merrill and Fenris. Each one of them would bear that guilt, for helping her go back into the Bone Pit.

Inside, the Bone Pit was changed. Many of the chambers had collapsed, and there were no miners to be found. What _were_inside those chambers were dragonlings, dozens and dozens of them, newly hatched and waiting for a meal. They swarmed upon the party at the first intrusion of light and there seemed to be no end to them.

Anders recommended a hasty retreat, and Hawke refused him with an affectionate, brief kiss stolen in the middle of the struggle. She was a warrior, and she never retreated.

"Stay just here, cutie," she told him, pushing him to the back. "We'll take care of this in a jiffy."

With her signature grin she leapt ahead of the group and directly into a pile of writhing lizard flesh and fire, hacking and slashing away with her axe. Fenris with his greatsword followed close behind, Merrill and Varric at their heels.

Everything seemed to be going well, until the lights went out.

It was only a moment, when the torches on the walls had been overrun with a swarm of dragonlings, before Anders lifted his arms and lit the caverns with his signature electric glow.

When they could see again Hawke was being pulled away from the group, and moving fast.

These were drakes, perhaps four of them, slender and viscious, who had caught her with their teeth and were dragging her away to be devoured. They wouldn't have gotten far - surely Hawke would have freed herself even if her companions could not - if not for a sudden change in terrain.

A chasm had opened there, where no such thing had existed before, created by the tremendous force of the High Dragon's attack and the sudden collapse of a huge portion of the Bone Pit into a wide open abyss.

The drakes retreated back from Hawke's companions, and particularly from Fenris racing to Hawke's side, and fell directly into the chasm.

Hawke, with several of them still clinging to her, scrambled for a few desperate seconds at the cliff's edge, trying to hold on, before she too disappeared over the edge.

A long scream followed, as Hawke fell into the abyss.

Fenris dropped to his knees at the cliff's edge, reaching down frantically for her hand and finding nothing. There was no sign of her. She was gone.

An anguished cry rose above the melee, when Anders realized what had happened. In the next moment Justice surged into control, raising his arms and obliterating everything in his path. Merrill and Varric very narrowly escaped the destructive blast, jumping out of sight to let Justice have its way.

A wave of dragonlings passed Fenris at the cliff's edge, running out into nothing to escape the wrath of Justice. They plunged into the abyss and were quickly swallowed by the dark. He barely noticed them, as he stared unseeing and numb into the depths of the chasm where Hawke had vanished.

Emptied, Anders dropped limply to the ground, with Varric and Merrill rushing to his side.

"Elf!" Varric shouted wildly from the fallen mage's side. "Can you see her? Is she there?"

"No," Fenris managed to say back, hoarsely. "Hawke is gone."


	2. You Have Killed Me

_To be honest, they had forgotten all about Fenris in the wake of the disaster.__There were other, bigger considerations. The Champion of Kirkwall's demise could well break the very fragile peace between Orsino and his Circle and Meredith and her Templars. Hawke was a figure of admiration on both sides, and one of a very few voices of reason who was still trying to broker agreement between all sides. At the same time, she had been working to establish a new Vicount in the city, with the goodwill she had earned from the Hightown nobility by defeating the Arishok and saving all their lives. Even the City Guard paid her respects, due to her close friendship with the Guard Commander.__News of the Champion's death would generate chaos. Maybe even open warfare in the streets of Kirkwall.__Which was why they – they being primarily Aveline, Varric, and Sebastian, hurriedly gathered in the Hanged Man that night – decided to keep it to themselves, for now. Hawke was out of the city adventuring often enough that there would always be good reason for her absence. Only her friends knew of her disappearance, and that was how it would stay. At least until a new course of action could be determined that would not involve everyone fleeing the city.__This deception, and the discussions about a way forward, would keep her companions occupied in the days after Hawke's death. In such matters, one could be forgiven for not remembering the moody, taciturn elf._

_And, in the immediate aftermath, there was Anders to worry about.__  
_

* * *

Anders roared into consciousness several minutes later as though no time had passed. Held down by Varric and Merrill, he cried out for his beloved Hawke in a broken wail.

"Blondie, I'm sorry, she's gone…" Varric said sorrowfully. He held the skinny mage to the hard stone, hoping to keep him there until he calmed down to a less explosive state.

"Lie still, _lethallen_, catch your breath," Merrill said soothingly, through the tears that coursed unchecked down her face.

"Let me go," Anders demanded frantically. "**Let me go.**"

The Fade Spirit with whom he shared his mortal body, Justice, surged once more to the forefront and flung the elf and dwarf aside like so much kindling. He flew to the edge of the abyss in a haze of blue light, his face almost completely obscured with the light of the Fade that poured from his eyes.

His arms lifted, and a surge of raw energy flooded into the crevasse, lighting it down and down and down. The blue light captured straggling Dragonlings clinging to the sides of the cliff, and the flutter of wings where Drakes sailed below. But the bottom of the crater, if there even was one, was so far below that his magic disappeared from view before alighting it.

Fenris, still crouching at the cliff's edge, watched this quietly. His eyes scanned the cliffside for any sign of Hawke. Any small scrap of hope.

But there was nothing.

"**This is not correct,**" Justice thundered, in a vaguely baffled tone. "**This cannot be the Champion's end. She was to stand beside Anders to the very last.**"

"I'm sure she would have," Merrill offered timidly, creeping up beside him.

"**Be silent, blood witch.**" Justice cocked Anders's head to the side, as if listening to his own words echoing through the cavern. In fact, he was listening to another voice inside his head. "**But I cannot give you the body now. You will do something foolish with it.**"

Varric and Merrill exchanged pained looks.

"**Only if you promise to return us to Kirkwall intact. Dwarf, witch, you will watch him, will you not?**"

"Of course," Varric said dully, unable to muster his usual enthusiasm. "We don't want to lose any more people today."

The blue light of Justice faded, and Anders dropped to his knees, robbed of all strength. Immediately Merrill and Varric were at his elbows, attempting to pull him up. The suffering mage shook them off. He stayed there panting, his hands and knees numb against the cold stone. A broken sob rose from him, and Anders reached into his coat.

He pulled from an inner pocket a glittering amulet, one that no one had seen him wear, but he had always kept close to his heart. The chain of it rattled in his trembling hand. Then he flung it over the cliff's edge. They all could hear it plinking against the cliffside, fainter and fainter, until it was gone and all was silent again.

"Sadie," Anders wailed suddenly into the dark. "Sadie, I'm so sorry. My love. I'm so sorry."

Tears coursed down the mage's face as his two companions hauled him to his feet and slowly lead him away, for the long journey back to Kirkwall.

As soon as the sun hit their faces, Varric remembered.

"Wait here a minute," he told Merrill. "One minute." Then he hurried back down into the Bone Pit.

His eyes readjusting to the dark, he could just barely make out the outline of the elf still crouched at the cliff's edge.

"Elf. We're going."

Fenris did not acknowledge his presence in any way. In fact he had not heard Varric at all, or noticed them dragging Anders away. There was only a dull roaring in his ears as he stared down into the dark.

Varric looked nervously back at the cave's entrance. He couldn't leave Merrill to handle Anders alone, and they had to hurry to get him back to Kirkwall before dusk set in.

"Broody? … Fenris?" The dwarf shifted anxiously from side to side, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. All he really wanted to do was go back to his suite at the Hanged Man and hold Bianca and drink until he forgot that his best friend in the whole world had just died. "Look, you'll have to catch up, all right?"

Fenris said nothing in reply, didn't even move. Varric was tempted to go down and sit there too, but there was Anders to think of.

"Don't stay too long, okay? Once the sun's down those dragon chicks will come crawling back."

He felt bad about leaving him there, but what could he do? Everything was a disaster. Anders was sobbing when Varric came back up to the surface, his head between his knees.

Varric didn't feel much better, but unfortunately, somebody had to be the grown-up here. "Let's go, Blondie. Your clinic and your patients are waiting. Daisy, give me a hand."

Together the three of them stumbled back to Kirkwall, leaving Fenris alone in the Bone Pit.


	3. I Know It's Over

The first few hours were the worst.

He must have been in some sort of shock. The world retreated away from Fenris in a kind of fog. Every sight and sound seemed to come to him through a long tunnel, from very far away. It was all he could do just to keep breathing, and it was something he had to give some thought to – air going in, air coming out.

The terrible fact of Hawke's death sat just outside his awareness, waiting to devour him entirely. He could feel it there, waiting for him, but he could not face it yet.

Hawke.

All these years by her side, he had always known they would come to an end. But not like this.

Parting with her he could take. It would be difficult, but survivable.

The thought of her no longer barreling her merry way through this world was simply unbearable.

Reeling, the warrior elf sat unthinking at the edge of the abyss, entirely alone.

The first time a person knows grief, real grief, is truly terrible. It is always terrible, but in that first time a person doesn't truly know they can survive it. That life can continue past that point, and be good to them again. The first time a person loses someone close, it seems as though they will simply fall down and die.

Fenris had never known grief, for he had known neither caring nor kindness until he met her. He was barely alive until he met her. His entire being had been focused on survival, whether by serving his Master in Tevinter or, later, by escaping his wrath in the Free Marches. Meeting Hawke had been the turning point. She was the first one who had ever treated him like a person, and one worthy of respect.

It had taken years, but with her unwavering support he had built a life here. He had a home, friends, work, and an identity other than that of a mutilated runaway slave: that of a loyal companion to the Champion of Kirkwall. And he was proud of it. Proud of her. He had known immediately that Hawke was someone special. It just took a few years more for everyone else to know it too.

And despite the fact that she belonged to another, he had stoked a fire within himself for her. Fire was the only word for it; it pained him just as much as it thrilled.

He lived for those nights when she came to call, sat with him and drank and talked. They were the best times of his life. Looking into those blue eyes and seeing, not disgust, but affection and acceptance did more for him than any amount of lecturing or scolding about how to properly live as a free individual ever could. At those times he could believe that he was a man like any other, sitting with a friend, sharing a pleasant evening.

It anguished him, sometimes, that there were all these things burning within him that he could never say. Not to her, not when she loved another man. Words like _devotion_ and _adore_ and _desire _which threatened to spill from his lips whenever he had enough drink in him. But that was a small price to pay. The pleasure he took in her company, in her jibes and her stories and her endless patience with him, this was all worth the terrible longing he felt when he thought of her in Anders' arms.

Now he could never tell her, and never repay what she had done for him.

The awful despair surged through his chest and into his throat like bile, threatening to choke him. He released a single anguished cry and fell on his side, collapsing into himself. _He would never see her again. _The thought sent real, visceral physical pain through his entire being, so much so that it reminded him of the agony of the lyrium ritual that haunted him daily.

He didn't know how long he laid there defenseless in the dark. It seemed to go on forever.

At some point, he fell mercifully into unconsciousness.

* * *

He dreamed.

He was in a great temple, not the Chantry but something even older, a gleaming palacial space that was an amalgamation of every ruin and religion he had encountered in his travels. Here there were altars to every deity, to Andraste and to the old Elven gods and the dwarven paragons and unnamed gods lost and forgotten to history.

He ran from one to the next, paying tribute to each in turn, just in case any of them had any chance of offering aid.

All he knew was that Hawke was gone, and she needed his help.

_Please. Anyone. Help her._

He whispered the Chant of Light for the first time in his memory, having heard it many times in Tevinter but never being permitted to speak it. Andraste's statue stared back at him, her eyes not kind but cold and pitiless.

He knew no other prayers to offer the others. Just a kind of shameless begging. He promised them anything. Anything they wanted. In return for Hawke, safe and whole.

**What would you give?**

_Anything. Everything._

**Even your life?**

_Yes. Yes, take it now, if it would help her._

**Awaken, elf. Your love is not dead.**

* * *

Fenris's head snapped up, confused at first to find himself in the dark. Then he remembered.

Hawke was gone.

And then, although he remembered no details of the dream he had, one single fact remained, solid and incontrovertible.

_Hawke is alive._


	4. How Soon is Now?

As word slowly spread amongst Hawke's closest friends, they began to come to the Bone Pit to pay their respects. It was as close to a last resting place as their friend would have. Though the place was still dangerous, Hawke deserved no less from them.

Sebastian Vael was the one to tell Hawke's sister, Bethany. Reaching her in the Gallows had been tricky. Clearly she had to know, but all communications to the Circle mages were monitored by the increasingly paranoid Knight-Commander Meredith. Sebastian had to use his connection to the Grand Cleric (who mercifully did not question Sebastian's urgent need to contact Bethany) to be allowed to speak with the mage on "Chantry Business."

Somehow he was able, on "Chantry Business", and with the sympathy of Cullen - who had grown fond of Bethany and could see she was clearly upset - to get a bare few hours' leave for her to make her own pilgrimage to the spot, before the news spread to the rest of the city.

When Sebastian and Bethany came to the Bone Pit, the day after the accident, they found Fenris climbing down into the pit.

* * *

"What on earth are you doing?" Bethany shouted down the cliff.

In fact, he was stuck. He had gotten some distance down but run into a sheer drop where the cliffside jutted out abruptly and left nothing immediately below him to grab onto. Which left him clinging to the rock face in a very precarious spot, his bare feet balanced carefully in a barely adequate toe-hold. He had neither the equipment nor the expertise to venture further.

At the very moment they arrived, he was debating with himself whether to climb back up or simply let himself drop and see if he could catch onto the next ledge. Clearly a foolish idea, but he couldn't see any other way to continue and he was not about to give up.

"Fenris!" Sebastian shouted. "Do you have any idea what you're doing? By the Maker, you need rope, and, and shoes for that! Come back up, perhaps we can help!"

Fenris looked up at the Starkhaven prince thoughtfully. That seemed sensible. He was clearly going to need assistance for this. And he would not be much help to Hawke if he plunged to his doom.

He was pleased to see Sebastian here, who had always been friendly to him, and was a reliable, responsible person. Surely he could be counted on to help.

Slowly, he made his way up and out of the pit, accepting Sebastian's extended hand to pull himself over the top.

His hopes faded, however, when he saw the expression on the princeling's face.

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" Sebastian scolded him, his face incredulous and concerned.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"What could you possibly have been thinking?"

"Someone needs to go down there," Fenris explained patiently. "Hawke needs our help."

Bethany, standing some distance away, snapped suddenly to attention. With sudden quick strides, she came to his side.

"Did you see something?" she asked him fervently. "Did you hear her voice? Any sign of her?"

"No," Fenris replied, a little reluctantly. "But she is alive. I know it."

Bethany sniffled and brought one hand to her face, to catch the tears that were starting to fall. "How?"

"Because... this is _Hawke_," he told her, as if it explained everything. "She survived the Deep Roads. She survived the Qunari invasion and the duel with the Arishok. She survived Danarius's ambush. She survived the High Dragon. She would not be killed by a... a hole in the ground... it simply isn't possible."

Bethany buried her face in her hands and began to sob. "Damn you," she cried. "For a moment, I thought..."

Sebastian put a protective arm around the crying mage (a sight Fenris had never expected to see in this world) and glared at him.

Fenris glowered right back, impatience shortening his temper even further. Who knew what was happening to Hawke at that very moment, while they stood there and jabbered?

"Never mind," he said shortly. "I will find a way to her on my own."

Sebastian's expression softened, as he reached his hand out to him, to clasp his shoulder. "Fenris, Hawke is dead."

Stubbornly, he shook his head. "No. She isn't."

"There is no way for her to survive that fall. Look at it. Have you looked?"

"I have looked a great deal," he answered, unphased. "She fell right at the side of the cliff; you can even see where she dislodged the rocks on the way down." (This description loosened another sob from Bethany, which he had to ignore.) "She could have grabbed hold further down, or fallen onto a ledge somewhere. She could be laying unconscious somewhere right now. Or she may be scaling the cliff as we speak. But she won't be able to reach the top without aid. We have to help her."

"But you have seen or heard no sign of her, all these hours later," Sebastian pointed out, with a gentleness that grated at Fenris's frayed nerves.

"Hawke is alive," he repeated. "She has to be."

"Shut up!" Bethany screeched at him suddenly. "How can you be so heartless? You have no right! You were nothing to her, nothing! She was MY SISTER! My only family left! And now she's DEAD and I'm the only one left!" She choked on the words, through her tears, but pulled herself together just long enough to finish. "It's hard enough to accept that she's gone without your stupid nonsense! Shut up!"

Fenris recoiled from her, stepping back until he was pressed to the wall of the cavern.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Bethany buried her face in her hands again, her heart-rending sobs echoing through the Bone Pit. "I should never have come here. Sebastian, take me back to the Gallows."

Sebastian took her by the shoulders and led her away. And Fenris was alone again.

* * *

The next expedition to the Bone Pit found Fenris still sitting on the cold stone, lost in thought. The elf was parked against a wall not far from the chasm where Hawke had disappeared. He looked awful.

He had spent hours after Bethany and Sebastian's departure searching for another way into the pit, checking those tunnels that had not yet collapsed for an alternate route into the pit, one where Hawke might be reachable. It had been fruitless, and in the dim torchlight that remained he had to fend off several swarms of dragonlings that had come scrambling out of the dark for their next meal. He had a number of wounds that would probably need healing, eventually.

With some of the Qunari blackpowder he could perhaps blast open some of these collapsed tunnels. But he had none of it and no way to get it. And it could just as easily bring down the fragile passages that remained and eliminate any chance of getting Hawke out alive.

He wondered if he could phase through them, or through the floor. He didn't know how he would bring her back up when he found her, but at least he would be able to locate her. Passing through solid objects was agony for him, but he could do it. He just didn't know how long he could maintain it, or what would happen if he were caught in between somewhere when he solidified. It was a frightening thought. If only he had tried this before, developed some kind of mastery over his phasing abilities... but he had always been reluctant to use his lyrium any more than he had to. No, his phasing abilities would be no use if he did not know where to go. Trapping himself in a stone mountain by phasing aimlessly through it would not help Hawke.

There was nothing he could do but wait. If Hawke was indeed scaling the chasm, as he felt certain she was, he would see or hear her coming and offer some sort of aid over the gap he had encountered. The only other option was to make another attempt to climb into the pit. He was going to need rope for that. Strong, thick rope.

But he could not bring himself to leave the Bone Pit to get it. If Hawke called for help, he needed to be here to answer her. He imagined her shouting for aid with no one responding, slowly realizing they had left her there all alone. The thought left an icy pit in his chest, as though he were feeling the space where his heart had been torn from his chest the day before.

No, he would not let that happen. He would stay. Until she returned.

_Just one word,_ he silently pleaded, resting his forehead against his knees. _Just one word, Hawke, so I know that you're coming. Please, give me something._

This was how Aveline found him.

She was escorting Hawke's household, who had quietly insisted on paying their respects. Bodhan, Orana, and Sandal filed in quietly, with two city guards at their backs. The guards stayed outside, ready to rush in at the first sign of trouble. Aveline stood over her charges like the mother hen she was born to be, looking anxious that they would follow Hawke right over the edge of the abyss.

With Sandal, this was entirely possible. Though subdued, the young dwarf was always unpredictable. Bodhan had a good grip on him, but the fatherly dwarf was looking a little wobbly himself. He held a handkerchief to his face and dabbed perpetually at his eyes.

Orana was silent and wide-eyed, carrying an armful of white flowers with a look of resigned bewilderment.

Aveline stopped short when she saw the figure huddled against the wall.

"Fenris? Is that you?"

He lifted his head and leaned back against the wall. "Hello, Aveline."

"What are you doing sitting here in the dark?"

Sandal broke in, abruptly. "Enchantment?"

Sandal would have walked over to Fenris had Bodhan not held a death-grip on his arm. It wasn't at all clear how much he understood of what was going on, but one could be forgiven for imagining a note of sadness in the dwarf's voice.

"No, thank you," Fenris answered him hoarsely, and rubbed at his eyes. The torchlight was awfully bright after a full day with nothing but the lyrium to light his way.

Bodhan started talking to Aveline about what a tragedy it was to lose Messere Hawke, and so young, and Fenris had to stop listening. He watched Orana walk silently to the cliff's edge with her flowers. Fenris recognized them; they came from the Hawke estate, from the garden in the back that she had so proudly tended. She had probably picked every last one.

Slowly she let the flowers fall from her hands, and drift softly into the hole in the ground where Hawke had vanished.

Fenris's vision blurred at that. He had to close his eyes and hold very still for several moments.

Aveline watched him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Master Anders will inherit the estate, I imagine," Bodhan went on. "It's what she would have wanted. I can't imagine him living in it, though, he's hardly ever there. Perhaps he will hold it for Bethany or Charade to live in one day. Master Anders hasn't come to the estate once since it happened. I'm sure he's thrown himself into his work. Works too hard, he does."

Bodhan dabbed at his face some more, sniffling.

"I'm going to miss her," he said. "She wasn't just an employer. She was a friend."

"Hawke had a great many friends," Aveline said.

When Fenris opened his eyes again he saw Sandal peering down into the abyss with great interest. He wondered if the strange dwarf may have seen something that he could not.

"Come away from there, my boy," Bodhan said, still sniffling. "We need to go back to the estate and ready it for a wake."

Agreeably, Sandal came away from the cliff, and Orana too.

"You'll come too, Master Fenris?" Bodhan asked, suddenly taking notice of his presence. "The city does not know of this tragedy yet, but it's only a matter of time before people come to call. I thought we'd have something small and private for her dearest friends. Orana is already planning a feast."

"Perhaps," he answered weakly.

"Come along," Aveline commanded him, "we're going back to Kirkwall."

Aveline was a formidable woman, strong and reliable, but Fenris had a sudden instinct that the Guard Captain would consider his plans so much stuff and nonsense and bodily drag him out if he told her he intended to stay.

"I shall follow later," he told her. "I... wanted to spend some time here."

Aveline looked skeptical, and would have spoken with him further, but Sandal was walking off down an adjacent tunnel saying something about enchantments and Bodhan was still talking to Orana about the menu and nearly walked into a wall and she had to run to look after them.

* * *

When Aveline returned to Kirkwall, and had deposited her charges at the Hawke estate, she made her way to the Hanged Man and found Sebastian already there in Varric's quarters.

"I fear he's gone mad," he was saying when she walked in.

"That's a short trip from here," Varric joked weakly. "Ah, Red, there you are. Have you seen Fenris?"

"Yes, at the Bone Pit. Actually I was hoping to talk to someone about him."

"He was still there? When?" Sebastian exclaimed.

"Still is, probably. I just came from there."

"Dammit." Varric's fist collided with the table, making everyone jump. "I should have known. He never left."

"What do you mean?"

"He was there when Hawke fell, he was still there this morning, and he's there now. He never left the Bone Pit." Varric stood up and started grabbing things, reaching for Bianca on her perch above him.

"Did he tell you why?" Sebastian asked. When Aveline shook her head, he continued. "He thinks Hawke is still alive down there. He was trying to climb down the gap this morning."

"Oh for fuck's sake." Aveline started towards the door.

"Wait just a minute, Red." Varric stopped her. "You're not going after him."

"Like hell I'm not. I'll throw him over my shoulder and carry him if I have to."

"And he'll go right back. You know he will. Look, it's after nightfall. Go home to your husband. I'm going to the Bone Pit, you can relieve me in the morning."

"Relieve?" she asked.

"One of us has got to stay with him, to make sure he doesn't go over the edge. Literally."

"I'm coming too," Sebastian said. "I shouldn't have left him there alone."

"Okay choir-boy, you can come."

They set out for the Bone Pit well after sundown, hoping it wasn't too late.


	5. What Difference Does It Make?

When they arrived, the dim torchlight in Hawke's chamber (as they were beginning to think of it) had burnt out and the cavern was pitch black. They had to start a fire with the wood outside and carry it in to relight the torches.

Fenris startled out of a light sleep. He was still sitting with his back to the wall, but now there were several dragonling corpses at his feet, blood on his sword, and an open wound on his leg.

"Andraste's tits, Broody," Varric called, earning a glare from Sebastian. "Didn't I tell you they would come crawling back in the night?"

He had decided to play it casual, as though this were just another visit to Fenris's decrepit mansion. In all honesty, it wasn't really so different. Dust, blood, bodies, stale air: basically the usual. He kicked aside one of the little corpses and sat himself down next to the elf, pulling a skin of water out of his jacket.

"Here, have a drink," he offered.

Fenris took it from him reluctantly, but drained most of the flask in one go. It had been well over a day since he'd had any water to drink.

He had to clear his throat to speak, he was so parched. "Thank you."

"Keep it." The dwarf gestured to Sebastian to join them. "So, I heard you want to climb down into the Bone Pit. I gotta say, Elf, you don't look up for it right now."

Though he said nothing, Fenris knew that this was true. His strength was waning, and he was not that good of a climber to begin with. Perhaps if he slept... but the wretched dragon spawn always came crawling before he could really rest.

Sebastian offered some healing salve for his wounds, and he took it silently.

"We thought we'd keep you company for a little while," Varric continued. "I'm sorry I left the other day. I shouldn't have left you alone."

Fenris coughed to clear his throat again, as he distractedly cleaned the worst of his wounds. "Making sure I don't fling myself off a cliff?"

"Something like that."

"If you wish to help, you could find a way down the crevasse. With some rope, perhaps you could lower me down, to see if I could see her."

"This is madness, Fenris..." Sebastian implored him. "There's been no sign of Hawke, none at all! Surely if she were alive, we would have heard something, seen something? You need to accept that she is dead."

Fenris smirked without looking up from his wound. "Do you not see the irony? You require evidence to believe Hawke is alive? Whatever happened to your faith?"

"There is faith and there is delusion, when the truth is too difficult to bear."

The elf could not help snorting at that. It was a nearly perfect reversal of an argument that he and the Chantry brother had held many times before.

"What if I am right?" he insisted. "Then you would have abandoned her when she needed us most."

Varric broke in. "Nobody's abandoning anybody. We're going to stay here for the night, and see what we see. All right?"

Fenris didn't know whether to be glad for the company or resent the intrusion. They seemed to have no intention of leaving or of helping him to find Hawke. They wanted to talk, which was somewhat of a relief after the oppressive silence of the cavern, and harmless in itself.

Unfortunately, Varric could talk A LOT. And his choice of subject was a painful one.

He told stories about Sadie Hawke. For hours.

Such as the story of the first time he had met her, brawling in the Lowtown market with some poor bastard who had called her a smelly Fereldan dog. "Call me ugly, fine," she snarled at him, "but insult the mabari and I'll pound you into the ground." Which she proceeded to do with great enthusiasm. Varric helped her to evade the city guard when they came running and they were the best of friends ever after.

He talked about her unflagging enthusiasm and her undying loyalty to those few who were lucky enough to call her a friend. How she loved to fight and to drink and to argue, and to argue while fighting or while drinking. He spoke of her protective nature, how she had fallen into and then embraced her role as defender of the defenseless. Her short temper and her stubbornness and how damned hard it was to get her to listen to you once she had made up her mind. Her disregard, at times, for other people's wishes, when she thought she knew better. How she could shrug off her own tragedies and fight like hell for everyone else's, her own way of coping with a broken heart.

All of it, the good and the bad. Varric would never run out of stories about her. He could always come up with more. And they would all, essentially, be true.

Fenris knew exactly what Varric was trying to do. He was trying to trigger some sort of outpouring of grief that would force him to accept Hawke's death, which was somehow supposed to help him.

Instead the warrior tried to take comfort from his stories, in Hawke's strength and resilience and her ability to take losses in stride and keep going.

_Hawke is a survivor. She will survive. She always does._

At last Varric seemed to be coming to the end of his considerable storytelling gifts. He coughed dryly, searching the pockets of his coat. "If only I'd brought more flasks. Hell, I should have brought liquor. Maybe I'll send you back for some ale, Sebastian."

"From the Hanged Man? I would never stoop so low."

"Too much iniquity for you, choirboy? I didn't think the Chantry preached against alcohol."

"It doesn't. But the ale at the Hanged Man is _terrible_, Varric. I don't know how you drink the stuff."

They went on like this for some time after Fenris stopped listening. He was trying to hear past them, for any sounds that might come out of the Bone Pit.

"Broody, look."

Fenris drifted back to attention. Sebastian was getting up and walking away, and Varric was talking to him. "What?"

"How long would you wait for her? Before you give up? Another day? A week?"

He just shook his head. There was no answer for that.

"Sooner or later you have to come back home."

"Why?"

The dwarf stopped. "Why what?"

"Why return?" he asked bluntly.

Varric answered evasively. "To sleep in your own bed. Or… your own pile of dusty linens as the case may be."

But that wasn't the real question, and he knew it. The real question was, why return to Kirkwall? And more importantly, why return to a Kirkwall without Hawke in it? Was there any reason to go back? And Varric didn't know that, not really. He'd lived in Kirkwall for many years before he met Hawke, but Fenris had only known the city because she had shown it to him. For him, Hawke _was_Kirkwall, in an essential way. There was no part of it that was not somehow hers.

"I don't know, Elf. It might be that you'd be better off somewhere else. Hell, we all might be better off elsewhere. The place is hardly a paradise. It may just fall to pieces under all our feet any day now. But it's better than this cave, I can tell you that much. You can't stay here forever."

"I will not leave without Hawke."

"You gotta snap out of this. Do you think Sadie would have wanted you to do this? What would she say if she was here right now?"

Fenris knew exactly what she would say.

She would have shouted at him. She would put her hands on her hips and glare at him in exasperation, with that funny little twitch to her lips that meant she wasn't entirely serious about it. She would be exasperated, all right, but she always understood. She knew him so well.

She would say, go _home, dummy! Get some sleep. Eat something. Get your strength_ _back up. THEN go do whatever the hell you want, like you always do anyway. Maker's breath, what help are you to anyone like this?__  
_  
Then, when he completely ignored her absolutely practical advice, she would heave a long-suffering sigh and join him (because she never listened to her own practical advice anyway). She would have sat here with him until the stupid self-destructive thing he was doing was affecting her too and he would see that and give in, because he would never treat her as badly as he treated himself. She would have stayed the entire night and day and night and sung stupid tavern songs to distract him and invented some sort of guessing game to amuse them and refused to leave him alone until he walked back to Kirkwall at her side.

And all of that was never going to happen again.

It was no use to imagine her here if she were dead. If Hawke was alive, she needed him here, and if she was dead, it didn't matter. Nothing would matter.

It was no use to imagine her here because it filled him with such desperate longing for her presence that it was unbearable, it was a physical force crushing him into the stone. He could not think on it further. If Hawke were dead, there would be no end to that pain. The only real cure for it would be the abyss.

If believing he would see Hawke again was truly denial, then he must cling to denial to survive.

Fenris stopped answering their questions then; he stopped talking to them at all. He didn't care if they thought him mad. If they insisted on staying to watch him, all the better. That way when Hawke reappeared they would be here to help.

Varric tried a few more times to engage the elf, but met only stony silence. Finally he shook his head and walked away, joining Sebastian nearer the mouth of the cave.

Tense and wary, Fenris huddled there gripping his sword, less for the possibility of an attack than in case someone should try to drag him away. He may have dozed a little in the hours that followed. At some point Merrill arrived, and he was suddenly aware of the three of them discussing him quietly.

"It is a vigil," Merrill was saying. "Among the Dalish, it happens when someone dies suddenly. The loved one will stay at the place where their ashes fall and refuse to leave."

"Does it end… well?" Varric asked.

"Um. Sometimes. Other times they just sit there until they die."

"... Fuck."

There was more talk, and then Sebastian came over.

"Fenris, I need to return to the Chantry now."

There was nothing to say to that, so he didn't reply.

"Is there anything I can do?" Sebastian hesitated. "Would you like me to pray?"

For the first time, Fenris looked up to him, and Sebastian could see how drawn his features had grown since only that morning. He looked to have aged a decade in that time.

"... Yes. That would be... helpful," the elf told him. Every word seemed to cost him dearly from what remained of his strength.

Sebastian recited from the Transfigurations, which seemed most appropriate. This particular verse had been a great comfort to him, and was frequently used to commemorate the deaths of templars and soldiers.

_Many are those who wander in sin,  
Despairing that they are lost forever,  
But the one who repents, who has faith  
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,  
And boasts not, nor gloats  
Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight  
In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know  
The peace of the Maker's benediction. The Light shall lead her safely  
Through the paths of this world, and into the next.  
For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.  
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,  
She should see fire and go towards Light.  
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,  
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword._

Fenris interrupted him sharply. "Stop. Not that one."

Sebastian stopped, perplexed. "A different canticle? What would you like, then?"

"Just... pray to the Maker for Hawke's life."

"Fenris... I don't think…"

He spoke quietly but firmly. "Please."

Sebastian knew just how despondent the elf must be to ask for his prayers. In the times they had spoken together and talked of the Chantry and of the Maker, Fenris had given him a hazy idea of the Black Throne's teachings, which were his only exposure to the religion of Andraste in the Imperium.

The Maker, according to the teachings in Tevinter, did not hear the prayers of the elves. The most they could hope was for a human to intercede on their behalf.

At the time, Fenris seemed to reject this idea, along with the very idea of prostrating himself before the Chantry or even Andraste herself, when neither had done a thing to help him in his captivity. He could argue quite passionately, and intelligently, against the idea of worshipping an indifferent and silent god.

Yet the warrior was undeniably drawn to The Chant of Light - Sebastian had caught him in its audience more than once. Whatever anger he had for the Maker was a complicated one. Perhaps there was still some idea of unworthiness planted there, however much Fenris resisted it.

Now, Sebastian realized he was hedging his bets on the chance that a human's prayers might be heard where his would not.

Now was not the time to put it straight. If this was how he could give aid and comfort to his friend, he would give it. Sebastian began again, this time with a supplication for aid and support in their hour of need. He recited a long passage from the Canticle of Trials, the one that began:

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.  
I shall endure.  
What you have created, no one can tear asunder._

As he spoke the well-worn verses they took on a new urgency. The princeling had always been a talented Chanter, but he had never recited with such authority and passion. As he turned from the chant proper into a direct supplication to the Maker, he found himself fervent in his pleas, however impossible they were. He called in Andraste's name for their sister Hawke to be returned to them, to fill her with the strength and will to survive so that she could stand beneath the sun once more.

He was asking, in all seriousness, for a miracle.

_I wish it were possible. If only Hawke were still alive. Kirkwall needs her. We need her. If there is any chance, Maker, lift her from the abyss._

And silently, he added a prayer for Fenris, who had suffered so much in his life already and who deserved some happiness, or at the very least, some relief.

When he was finished, a silence descended upon the cavern, and even Varric and Merrill were quiet and still.

After a few minutes passed, Fenris thanked him softly.

Sebastian clasped his shoulder and looked at him seriously. He was greatly worried that if he left here now, he would never see the elf again. "Fenris, listen. I consider you a friend." He shook him when the smaller man looked down and away at those words. "I mean it. You have many friends, in fact, who care about you, and are worried about you. I for one enjoy our talks together and fighting by your side. If you did not return to Kirkwall I would grieve for you. Understand? I would be sad for all of my days for the loss of another friend before their time."

Even though it made him uncomfortable, Fenris was touched by this concern, which seemed genuine. He managed to force a weak smile. "Even if I've lost my mind?"

He snorted. "Aye, even then. If this is what you need to do, then we will help you do it. But take care. And come back to us."

"I shall try."

* * *

_Author's note: the Canticles are taken from the Dragon Age Wiki, which is the bestest._

_Trying out a bit of Scottish brogue for Sebastian. If it's annoying, I'll cut it out._

_**update: haha, no. I undid the accent for the most part. too distracting.**  
_


	6. It was Really Nothing

The sun was newly rising when Sebastian left for Kirkwall.

Varric and Merrill, after seeing him off, stayed out to watch it coming up. It was unfairly beautiful for such a dismal morning. There was not a cloud in the sky, the sun a spectacular blaze across the horizon. And so peacefully quiet that each could hear the other breathing.

"I wish I knew what to do," Merrill said, out of nowhere. "Normally when I don't know what to do, I would ask Hawke."

"I know what you mean," Varric said. He shook his head. "I still can't believe it. If this was one of my stories, I'd have to revise the ending. The hero doesn't just… disappear. What kind of crummy ending is that?"

"Oh dear, I almost forgot!" Merrill exclaimed suddenly.

The dalish elf rushed back into the cave, wringing her hands. "Wait, where is it? For goodness sake... aha!"

Merrill snatched an indistinct object off the ground at the chamber's entrance and ran lightly over to where Fenris was sitting. Proudly, she produced a rucksack that she had brought with her from Kirkwall (and dropped to the floor and immediately forgotten about).

Fenris looked at it skeptically. He was not actually interested in anything the blood witch might give him. But he took it anyway, to stop her waving it in his face.

There were a number of things inside, including more water and a sandwich of some kind, but most importantly, he found –

"Rope," he said, astonished. Now he clamored through the bag with some excitement.

"Oh Daisy," Varric moaned when he saw the rope.

"I heard you wanted to climb down to look for her, so I thought this would help," she said cheerfully.

He pulled out several lengths of rope, along with some wooden pegs and heavy gloves. Immediately, Fenris set about knotting the lengths of rope together. He had momentarily forgotten that he hated Merrill and preemptively disagreed with everything she said or did.

"It does indeed help. I am in your debt, Merrill."

She could not help grinning at that - she could not recall the last time he had addressed her by name.

He stood up slowly. It had been hours since he had moved very much and he was visibly wobbly. But he was thoroughly engrossed in his task, looking around for a good place to secure the length of rope and begin his descent.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." Varric waved his arms around warningly. "This is an incredibly, legendarily terrible idea. No offense, Daisy."

"None taken," she replied. "But why is it such a bad idea, Varric? We're always wandering about in caves."

Fenris was tying the end of his length of rope firmly around a sturdy stalagmite, knotting it repeatedly.

Varric actually snapped at her, uncharacteristically frustrated. "Because Broody is injured and exhausted and _not actually any good at climbing things_ as far as I can tell, and I would really not like to donate any more friends to this lousy fucking hole in the ground, okay?"

Merrill thought for a minute, and then offered, "Maybe I could do it?"

Fenris looked up from his knots. "What?"

"I'm a good climber. And I'm not as heavy as you are with all that armor on. I could go down a little ways and see if I can see anything."

He looked thoughtful. Varric looked apoplectic.

"Not you too! Why is everyone I know out of their damned minds!"

"You would do this?" Fenris asked her seriously.

"Of course. Hawke was my friend too, you know. I don't really think she's alive down there, but perhaps we could find her... her remains. I hate the thought of leaving her in this cold, dark place."

Fenris chose to ignore the last bit. "Then go now. Varric and I will help you."

Varric was unable to convince either of them to change their mind, and before he knew it Merrill was positioning herself at the edge with Fenris hovering over her.

"Daisy, be careful," the dwarf said forlornly.

Merrill dangled her legs over the side and peered down. The crevasse was not very wide, perhaps 20 feet across, which did not allow much light. She raised her hands and called up her spirit energy for lumination. She could see that the opening gradually widened as you went down, making for a fairly large area to explore. And who knows how far down it went.

She called upon her spell wisps to help. As many as she could manage. They floated around her like giant fireflies, their white light gentle but steady. A few traveled down ahead of her to light her way.

"Only go to the end of the rope," Fenris instructed. "And tell me what you see."

Merrill used the heavy gloves to slide down the rope slowly, bracing against the cliffside with her feet. Eventually the rock wall dipped inwards, so that she couldn't reach it anymore. Then she had to grip the rope with hands and feet to control her slide downwards.

The elf's spell wisps circled her, darting this way and that. With their aid Merrill could actually see pretty well, at least in her immediate area. But everything below her feet was pitch black, save a tiny halo of light where two wisps had traveled, where their light only barely managed to pierce the darkness.

"Stay close to me," she whispered unnecessarily. They should remain near her life force for sustenance. Strangely though, those two wanderers continued to travel down until she couldn't see them anymore.

Merrill's feet touched the end of the rope, and she looked around. The cliffside had not curved back inwards to where she could climb it, as Fenris had hoped it would. She could see it perhaps five feet away. She could swing the rope over, maybe.

"I'm at the end!" she shouted upwards. She could just see Fenris looking down at her; from here he was about the size of her thumb. Probably Varric was there as well, but Fenris's white hair was distinct against the dull grey rock.

"Come back up!" Varric shouted.

"Just wait! I'm going to look around!"

Continuing to grip the rope, Merrill twisted all around to look over the sides of the crevasse, looking for any sign of movement. With a few words she called a small amount of chain lightning to alight the place in flashes. She saw dragonlings, here and there, peering out of tiny holes in the cliff. She saw a lot of jagged grey rock jutting out along the edges, broken where they had torn apart to create the maw of the pit. But she saw no body, and no bottom.

"HAWKE!" Merrill called out, down into the pit. "HAWKE CAN YOU HEAR ME? ARE YOU THERE?"

The silence that followed was heavy and unmistakable. There was no answer.

A tear ran down Merrill's face, at that. Perhaps she had been hoping for a miracle. But it wasn't going to happen. With a deep breath, she began to climb the rope.

At the top, she took his extended hand and allowed Fenris to pull her up, out of the pit, and up to her feet. By now there were many tears. She couldn't seem to stop them.

"I didn't see anything," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you for trying," he told her. He actually squeezed her hand. "I appreciate your efforts."

He let her go and went back to his place at the wall, sinking back to the floor.

Merrill accepted a strong hug from Varric. "I hate this place," she sniffled into his shoulder.

"We're leaving," the dwarf told her. "Broody, we tried. There isn't anything down there. She's gone."

"Well..." Merrill started to say, but was interrupted.

"No, Daisy. We've done everything we can."

_But there was one odd thing,_ Merrill finished privately. _My spell wisps were drawn downward for some reason. Could it be...? But no, there was no answer. I mustn't get anyone's hopes up._

But Varric was unable to move Fenris. He ignored the dwarf entirely, contemplating the ground and his spiky gauntlets.

"We can always knock you out, you know. Merrill could put you to sleep. Wouldn't you rather come peacefully?"

"I don't want to do that, Varric," Merrill fretted. Fenris hated magic. He would be very angry with her for it.

"Or knockout gas, I don't know! This is lunacy, Fenris. We'll drag you out of here if we have to."

"You would have to," he said dully. The elf no longer raised his head to address them. "I am not leaving."

The sound of footsteps encroached, and another figure entered the chamber.

Of course the Rivaini had always had marvelous timing.

"Isabela!" Merrill squealed. "Where have you been?"

The dalish elf ran to embrace the pirate, who hugged her back vigorously.

"Where _have_ you been, Rivanni?" Varric approached her looking glum. "We looked all over the city for you."

"At sea," she told them. "I got my ship back, remember? We were taking an inaugural journey to Antiva, and I got a bit distracted by an old friend... anyway, I got back last night, and Aveline told me the news."

Even Isabela looked drawn and tired, as though she had not slept the night. But she pasted on a smile for Merrill. "I have some presents for you, Kitten. They have the most marvelous hats there -"

"Another time, Rivanni. We've got a problem here."

"I heard." Quieter, she asked, "How is he doing?"

"It's just terrible," Merrill told her, arms still wrapped around Isabela's waist, her eyes huge. "He's not even being horrible to me. He was actually _nice_. It isn't normal."

"Aw, sweetling." Isabela ran her fingers through her dark hair.

"Can you stay a couple hours?" Varric asked her. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"I can stay," she said doubtfully, "but only Hawke ever had much luck with The Grumpy One."

"Well, just watch him. I need to check a few things in the city."

"You go too," Isabela told Merrill, kissing the top of her head. "Go see Aveline for me. Tell her I did too show up here."

Soon Isabela and Fenris were left alone in the Bone Pit.


	7. That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore

It was cold in the Bone Pit. It wasn't something that bothered a person much when climbing over rocks and stabbing things, but sitting in one place would gradually turn a man's bones to ice. One could see their own breaths hang in the air, were there enough light to see them by.

Fenris had waited there so long that he had stopped feeling cold awhile ago; now he just _hurt_. Muscles cramped and complained at their misuse. He didn't mind it much. Pain was familiar company to him, and a welcome distraction.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here anymore. All of the certainty he had yesterday was slipping away, steadily replaced by doubt. It was a growing emptiness in him, as though the cold had seeped completely through and turned his insides to ice.

Hope had not left him completely. He just had to work a little harder to remember it. It was a sensation he associated with Hawke, who had taught him to feel it. Who had given it to him, that sense of peace and security and calm strength.

_I cannot leave. Hawke needs someone to be here._

There was another part of him that was always there, quieter than it used to be, but threatening to surge back to prominence. Bitter and angry.

_But she doesn't need__**you**__. She has never needed you._

_But I am the only one here. If I go, there will be no one. I cannot leave._

He rubbed at his fingers absently, to try to alleviate the prickling sensation. They felt like ice.

_I knew this would happen. Goodness doesn't prosper. Only the wicked and the cruel survive in this world. I know it better than anyone. I warned her so many times. If only she had listened..._

_Hawke could survive this. If anyone could, she can._

_But what if she didn't?_

_What if she's really gone?_

_What if she's...?_

Fenris opened his eyes to escape the morose tangle of his thoughts, and looked around the dim light of the chamber. His eyes alit on Isabela kneeling besides the pit. She hadn't said a word to him, and he had forgotten entirely about her.

His eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. He couldn't put a finger on it at first, but something about her kneeling there struck him as terribly strange, even without being able to see her face. Until he finally noticed that her shoulders were shaking, and he realized that _Isabela was crying._

Isabela. Crying.

Somewhere in Thedas a river was running backwards, and fish were flying, and rain fell up instead of down, because Isabela the Pirate Queen was _crying_.

The sight struck a note of sympathy within him that had not sounded for any of the others. He had never seen her look quite so _small_ before. Normally her obnoxious personality filled the entire room, made her seem huge and imposing. Something in her had collapsed, deflated her. A private grief that seemed so similar to his own.

He was so startled by this discovery that it took some time for him to realize that he should probably be doing something about this. Not that he actually knew what to do about a crying person. That was generally a problem best left to someone else.

It seemed a serious invasion of her privacy for him to be here at all.

But he couldn't just sit there. He actually _liked_ Isabela, and she was _crying_. This was _terrible_. He was the only one there; he would have to do.

He forced himself up to his feet, hoping they would not give out on him (he could barely feel the stone beneath him, they were so cold).

She didn't seem to hear him coming at first. She had covered her face with both hands, clearly trying to muffle the sound. Then she was wiping at her face furiously, glancing over her shoulder.

Fenris was not especially fond of touching other people, but they seemed to appreciate it. So he put out his hand and touched her arm lightly. "Isabela?"

Before he could realize what was happening, she had jumped up to her feet and was embracing him, collapsing her wet face over his shoulder. Startled, he backed up a few paces, pulling her along with him.

He realized he should probably be hugging her back - that was what people did to comfort each other, right? - and he extended his arms around her. She was a fair bit taller than him, and she had to stoop awkwardly to rest her head against him. But she did not pull away, and sobbed openly into his neck.

It was strange to hold her like this. Strange, but... not terrible.

Eventually the Rivaini's weeping slowed, until she was quiet again and only sniffling. Then, abruptly, she pulled away.

Isabela crossed the room, still wiping at her face, and settled herself down to the floor where Fenris had been sitting previously, looking tense and irritable.

When he stood over her, she glared.

"What?" Now she was exasperated with him, for some reason. "Oh, don't get all... I'm fine! Sorry for crying all over you."

He was going to say _you're in my spot_, but decided against it.

Isabela brushed her wild brown hair behind her ears, her mouth settling into a hard line. "Look, **don't tell anyone**, okay? This didn't happen."

Fenris sank down next to her. "Who would I tell?"

"... point."

They sat together in silence for some time.

"It's just..." Isabela started to say. "The things she did for me. Things no one else would ever have done. Not even my own rotten kin ever fought for me like she did. I never really repaid her for it."

"I feel the same," Fenris said.

"Let me tell you a secret," she smiled. "You know how I always said I'd get Hawke into bed one day?"

He nodded.

"Actually... I already did. Years ago."

_That is... very unlikely_, Fenris thought. Surely everyone in the city would have heard about it if that happened. The pirate would have shouted it from the rooftops.

"It was before she and Anders became a thing. I didn't tell anyone about it because... well." Isabela looked away from him, wiping at her eyes. "She just kept flirting with me all that time, so I finally called her on it. I showed up at her place and promised her a good time. After all her bawdy talk I thought she'd be plenty experienced, but it turned out that actually, she'd never been with anybody. Like, _anybody_. I was her first time."

"And she made you promise not to tell?"

"No, actually. She never said anything like that. It's funny, I… normally I would tell everyone in sight about something like that but… This was... really special to me. This, I wanted to keep for myself."

Isabela pulled the bandana from her hair and stared at it for a moment, remembering that night.

"What about you," she went on hastily, "you have any secrets about Hawke? You two spent a lot of time together..."

"Secrets?" He pondered for awhile, and then smiled. "Yes, I know one. She did make me promise never to tell, though."

He watched Isabela wiping at her face, and thought that Hawke would hate to see her so sad. She would understand.

"Hawke had a... hidden talent."

"Is that a euphemism for something?"

"No. She was an excellent cook."

Isabela snorted, through her tears. "You're pulling my leg."

"No, it's true. She cooked for me once, just to prove that the kitchen in my manor was perfectly functional and I ought to use it. I don't know what it was she made…" (he gestured vaguely) "a fluffy egg thing. And some kind of pastry. It was _delicious_."

"Hawke _cooked_? No way. She hated all that frilly girl stuff."

"That's why it was a secret. She said if people knew she could cook, she'd have to do it all the time. When she would rather be out adventuring and fighting."

"That sounds more like her."

"She said when she got too old to beat people up anymore, she would open a bakery, just to see the look on people's faces."

Hawke growing old... the image flashed into his mind and refused to leave. Her long blonde hair turned white, with crinkles around her eyes and smile lines on her face.

He had to wipe at his own eyes with the back of his hand.

Isabela took over the thought. "You know, I always thought she would end up with _you_ eventually. You were good together. But nothing happened?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Did you ever think it might?"

"No." But he smiled at the idea. "I was proud to be her friend, and happy for that. There was never going to be anything more. I would have..." - he faltered at this, then went on - "I would have welcomed it, but I knew it would never happen."

"I don't know about that. Stranger things have happened."

Isabela straightened, assuming a more familiar expression. Standing, she brushed the dirt from her clothes and refixed her bandana in her hair, set her jaw and smiled determinedly.

"Don't worry about me," she said down to him. "Nothing phases me. I'll be fine. But what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"You'll be fine," she said, as though declaring it could make it so. "Look me up when you get back to Kirkwall, all right?"

He nodded his acknowledgement, promising no more.

Isabela left him alone in the Bone Pit. Which was not what Varric had said to do, but no matter. She knew Fenris would be all right.

Once again, Fenris sat alone in the Bone Pit, on the afternoon of the last day.


	8. I Started Something I Couldn't Finish

Aveline and Donnic walked to the Bone Pit together in the late afternoon sun.

Lost in thought, Aveline stared at the ground most of the way there with a grim expression. Donnic held her hand and watched her quietly. He knew she was grieving for her lost friend Hawke. The two women had never been close, were actually nearer to rivals than friends. Yet they had come to Kirkwall together all those years ago as refugees from the Blight, and both had fought their way from the bottom with each other's aid. Hawke going from a Lowtown shack to her Hightown manor, and Aveline from a solitary nobody to a married Captain of the City Guard. Their struggles had bonded them like sisters. Sisters who fought bitterly and often, but sisters still.

Donnic had admired Hawke. She was a bit too unserious for him, unlike his redheaded warrior wife, but a remarkable woman just the same. She would give aid to anyone who asked, not as a guard or a templar or even a mercenary but as a free individual who wanted to help people. That was a rare thing in a place like Kirkwall, where only the strong survived.

Now, suddenly, she was gone. And so much was left undone. As a City Guardsman himself, he knew just how much Hawke had been able to accomplish in Kirkwall as a free agent. At times, both he and Aveline had been frustrated by her interference, but it could not be denied that Hawke's influence had accomplished good things. Together with her companions, they had kept order to a degree that the underfunded and understaffed Guard could not have managed on their own.

He hoped, for that reason, that Hawke's companions would not choose to disband and go their separate ways, but stay to defend the city from whatever came next. A lot of that could depend upon whatever happened with Fenris at the Bone Pit.

He worried, too, about Fenris. He considered the elf a friend, and he knew Aveline did as well. He was a strange sort of fellow, difficult to read and hard to predict. It was apparent, though, that Aveline was one of the few people Fenris respected without reservation. The elf had been among the people conspiring to bring them together. Later, Donnic found him a good source of information about his lady-love - he was more observant than he seemed, and surprisingly insightful in his advice. For the elf's part, their odd courtship seemed to amuse him.

It had always been obvious to just about everyone that Fenris had feelings for Hawke. In her presence, he was almost a different person. Typically, the elf was morose a good deal of the time, his temper erratic, prone to disappearing without warning and refusing visitors. Hawke was the one person who seemed to put him at ease, and she could always draw him back from whatever dark waters his spirit dwelt in. With her, his smiles were not forced. And one could catch him, at times, looking at her with such tenderness it tore at your heart.

But he wouldn't act on it, however much Donnic tried to encourage him. Despite what he said, Donnic suspected this had nothing to do with Anders. Fenris would be _only too happy_ to see Hawke break up with his hated enemy. That in itself wouldn't stop him, it was only an excuse. He had probably made up his mind a very long time ago that she would never feel _that way_about him. For some reason he seemed to think she would part from him forever if she ever knew what he felt for her, and nothing would convince him otherwise.

It was such a shame, Donnic reflected. Hawke could well have reciprocated his feelings, if he had only given her a chance. And then, perhaps, everything could have been different.

On the outskirts of the city, the couple encountered the Rivanni pirate Isabela traveling in the opposite direction. As was commonly the case whenever Aveline encountered Isabela, she was immediately incensed.

"Just where are you going? I thought you were staying with Fenris!"

"Hello to you too, Muscles. I've _been _to the Bone Pit. He's fine."

"You idiot," Aveline snapped. "He's in a fragile state of mind. He could do almost anything."

Isabela shrugged and passed the couple. "Fenris isn't delicate. He's been through a lot worse than this. He'll be all right."

Aveline fumed, and looked like she wanted to chase after the pirate and hit her over the head with a blunt object.

"It's on your head if he isn't!" she shouted after her.

Isabela merely waved over her shoulder, dismissing the threat, as she continued down the road to Kirkwall.

"I swear, one of these days..." Aveline grumbled to her husband.

"I know, dear. Need I remind you that murder is still against the law, the last I checked?"

"Pity."

Aveline embraced him suddenly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "After this, could we go away somewhere together? I could use a break."

"Away from everyone? As nice as that sounds, you would spend the whole time worrying about how they managed without you..."

"I probably would."

"Perhaps we could draw all the shades and not answer the door for a few days instead. And I will keep you occupied." Donnic kissed the top of her head.

"That sounds lovely."

They walked the rest of the way to the Bone Pit in comfortable silence.

* * *

It was dark again when Aveline and Donnic went into the Bone Pit, and when she raised her torch she could not see Fenris in his customary spot at the wall.

"Fenris!" she shouted, her voice reverberating off the walls. "Fenris!"

"He could be in one of the other tunnels," said Donnic. He took over the torch and relit the lamps, and light crept across the chamber.

Aveline spotted him, unmoving and silent, _right at the edge of the abyss_. She caught her husband's arm. "Donnic."

"I see him."

They approached him carefully. The elf was huddled on the ground, head bowed, his typical terrible posture collapsing in on itself even further.

"Fenris? My friend, how are you doing?" Donnic was well aware that this was a stupid question, but one had to start somewhere.

"You should have answered me when I called," Aveline scolded him. "I was worried."

Fenris gave no appearance of hearing either of them. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees, his face hidden.

"We brought something for Hawke." Donnic took the package out of his pocket, smiling sadly. "The copper marigolds. Do you remember?"

Aveline blushed slightly and kicked a small rock at her feet. "Of course he remembers. None of them have ever let me live down that foolishness."

"It wasn't foolishness, dear. It was a little... muddled, as a message, and I was a little slow on the uptake. But it all came out for the best. Thanks to Hawke."

Donnic set the copper marigolds at the edge of the cliff, where they looked as though they had grown from the stone itself. It was beautiful, in a way.

"We going to keep this in our home forever but... it seems a fitting tribute," Aveline told the elf. "It's our way to remember a woman who would do anything to help her friends, even when they were pretty near hopeless."

Nothing. Fenris did not react at all. They weren't sure he was even awake. Donnic would have been tempted to nudge him to see, if not for the possibility of having his heart removed forcibly from his chest. He had seen Fenris pull that particular trick once before, and it was emblazoned vividly in his memory.

Aveline took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her. "Fenris. Besides paying our respects to Hawke, we're here to bring you back with us. It's time to come back to Kirkwall."

No reaction.

"It will do no good for you to sit here and wither away. There is nothing anyone can do for Hawke now. We need your help in Kirkwall. We have reports of mages gathering clandestinely in the night, plotting some sort of rebellion. No one knows what they're capable of more than you. Come back and help us deal with this."

Nothing.

Aveline grew agitated. "I thought you were more sensible than this! Oh, who am I kidding, you never listen to me! You'd rather do everything the hardest way possible, never minding what it does to anyone else!" She started to pace back and forth, as she did when truly upset. "This is madness, Fenris! Maybe the others are right, and you have lost what little mind you had left!"

Donnic, on the other hand, looked sympathetic. "I don't know that I would call it madness, Aveline. I get it, actually. I really do."

Aveline glared at him. "You're not helping!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help thinking... If it was you... Maker forbid but if you had disappeared without a sign either way, I would assume you were alive too. I'd have to. Darling, almost nothing could bring you down. Didn't you kill a Hurlock with your bare hands during a Blight? And Hawke is pretty formidable herself... she killed the Arishok single-handedly! What if it happened exactly as he says? She could have survived the fall, if she managed to catch on somewhere. She could actually be trying to reach us."

Fenris finally turned his head and gave Donnic a grateful look.

Now Aveline wanted to shake the both of them. But at least her husband had gotten some sort of response. So Fenris was not entirely out of his mind. His face was gaunt and hollow, but he did not seem beyond reason. Just stubborn beyond all belief.

Aveline sighed. Why did she always have to be the realist? She didn't _enjoy_crushing people's hopes beneath her heel. She wasn't a mean person. But too many people had coddled the elf, and Isabela was right in one sense: he was not a weak man. He should be able to handle the truth.

"That may have been true a few days ago, I'll give you that. Your faith in her is very… admirable. But there isn't any chance anymore, Fenris, you have to see that. She wouldn't have the strength by now to climb up a cliff with whatever injuries she may have. How far down did you go, and see no sign of her? How far down did Merrill go? It was a good distance down, wasn't it? If she fell farther than that, she would have broken bones, in the very least, and much more likely a broken neck. How would she even begin to climb in that condition? And don't forget, even if she survived the fall with only a few injuries, there are all sorts of drakes and dragonlings hiding down there that would love to feast on human flesh-"

"Aveline!" Donnic looked appalled.

"It's the truth. A bloodied human is a beacon for all sorts of cave-crawlers to feast on. If Hawke was alive after her fall, she is surely dead by now. I'm sorry, Fenris, but there's just no way-"

"Do you think it hasn't occurred to me?" Fenris replied testily. She had to listen very closely to make out the raspy remnants of his voice. "I have had very little to do but imagine the possibilities. I know what you say is true."

"But?"

"I cannot leave."

"Why?"

"I feel she cannot be dead. I know that I sound mad. But I feel it in my bones. She cannot be dead." He shook his head determinedly, unwilling to abandon his last hope. But too tired to keep the misery from his voice. "How could I still live if she were dead?"

Aveline and Donnic exchanged a pained look. How would you begin to argue with _that_?

Donnic immediately took his wife's arm, just as she had started to reach for her weapon. He knew she could very well make good on her threat to drag the elf bodily out of the cave. She was perfectly capable of handling him physically, but Fenris was armed and near-mad, and next to a bottomless pit, and that may not end well. Not that he thought Fenris would harm her intentionally. Honestly he didn't blame the man. If their positions were exchanged, if Aveline were the one, he would probably be no better off himself. He would never give up on Aveline, they would probably have to drag him away too. Unfortunately, dragging Fenris away would be much harder.

To his surprise, Aveline relented. She pulled her sword, but placed it on the ground and started to take off her gauntlets. Donnic stared at her quizzically, until she made her request: "Could you excuse us for a few minutes, Donnic?"

"Darling..." he started to protest.

"I just need a private word, that's all. Just go outside for a little while?"

Donnic wanted to argue further, but knew it would be useless. He knew that look in her eyes. "All right, but if you're going to be scuffling with each other, do it a little farther away from the edge? Please? I couldn't stand to lose you..."

Aveline kissed him then, and stroked his cheek fondly. "You won't. I plan to live forever."

"I'm holding you to that."


	9. Bigmouth Strikes Again

As Donnic left the cave, Aveline came over to where Fenris was sitting and sat down next to him. She gave him a long appraising look, while he steadily refused to look back. He only looked down, down into the darkness where Hawke was.

Aveline knew, now, why she had put off speaking to him.

"Donnic..." she began, hesitantly. "I love him with all of my heart. But I don't like to speak of this in front of him. It doesn't seem fair. You never met my first husband, did you? I forget that sometimes, that not everybody knows."

She took a deep breath.

"His name was Wesley. He died when we were fleeing the blight, before we reached Kirkwall."

"I know that," Fenris mumbled.

"No, you don't." Aveline's mouth settled into a hard, thin line as she contemplated him. "No one does."

"He was my first love," she went on shortly. "I met him when I was still a little girl. He wasn't like the others in my village. They called me ginger and manthing and ugly slug. It's all right, they were idiots. Wesley was different. He was kind and generous and brave. And very handsome, he was always very handsome. I don't know how I got so lucky. He said when we were still children that he would make me his wife someday, and he never wavered for a moment. When we married, it was the happiest day of my life. He was a good man, and I would have done anything for him. Anything."

"But he was tainted, on the road. Flemeth, the witch, when we met her there she said it was too late for him and we all knew it was true. I would have fought the whole of the darkspawn horde to save him, but against the taint there was nothing I could do. He had to be killed, to spare him a worse fate."

"And Hawke... stepped in and did the job. Without even asking me. She was quick and clean and he was gone."

"I was _so very angry _with Sadie for a long time. It was my job to do it, it should have been me. It should have been me," she repeated, trailing off.

"But now... After all these years, I have to admit: I am _so grateful _to her that I don't have to remember killing my first love, what it felt like to slide the blade into his chest. She spared me that. I never properly thanked her for it."

Aveline shifted on the floor, her armor rattling awkwardly.

"That wasn't the worst of it, though. The worst thing was, there was no time to bury Wesley. The horde was behind us, and I had to leave him behind. Leave him on the road, unburied, for the darkspawn to do unspeakable things to."

"Just imagine that. Imagine what that was like for me. The only man I had ever loved, and I had to leave him on the road."

"But if I hadn't, if I had stayed by his side and refused to move, I would not be sitting here with you now. I would have died. Maybe all of us would have died, if I had slowed us all down like that. I had to get up and fight again, on the worst day of my life, because we needed every sword. I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other and figuring out how to live without him. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

"Now, tell me, Fenris. Do you think I loved Wesley _one bit less _than you love Hawke?"

Aveline knew she had struck true. The air had changed, and the elf looked different when she looked at him. His eyes pressed shut and he shook his head ever so slightly.

"Of course not," he said quietly.

"Fenris, _we need you. _There is still work for you in Kirkwall, important work. I know better than anyone how much this hurts. But you have to go on. Everything you have fought for will be for nothing if you give up now."

"All right! Stop it!" he snapped at her, harshly, his voice subtly breaking at the last. "Just stop..."

All of the pain and grief he had staved off since the moment Hawke had been dragged away from him was breaking over Fenris like a wave; he was aware of nothing else. All on their own, his knees pulled to his chest and his head fell onto them, and a strange cry tore from his throat.

And all at once, all of the lyrium in his body began to glow.

With a dissonant hum, every tattoo activated, filling the cave with an unearthly light. The strange markings blazed against his skin, and his muscles visibly twitched with the pain of it.

Aveline could do nothing to help, now. She was never a comforting person, she should not have sent Donnic away. "I'm sorry," she said uselessly. "I am so sorry."

Fenris rose, still glowing, his limbs shaking with unreleased power.

"Fenris? What are you doing?"

Aveline rose to her feet. She was suddenly very nervous. Had she pushed him too far? She had broken through his denial, but she had no idea what he would do now. Could it be that he would jump to his death?

"Stay back," he said shakily, and Aveline was afraid.

She had to take several steps back, to avoid the crackle of energy she could feel coming off him in waves.

The lyrium brands had always been deeply connected to his emotions, activating in his defense more or less unconsciously whenever he was threatened or angry. Now it seemed as though it would consume him completely, burn him alive. Fenris stared in horror at his own hands burning him with pale blue fire.

"Stop it!" Aveline shouted at him. "Calm down!"

Easier said than done. His heart and breath were racing out of control. Everything was agony, everything. His skin was burning. He stood over the pit and blue light flooded it, and suddenly it was alive with movement.

The things that lived there looked up into the light and answered its summons. And they all came crawling out.

A scurry of wings and claws was scrambling up to meet him.

He stood over the pit and then smiled and said: "Yes."

With sudden calmness, Fenris walked over to the wall where he had sat for days and picked up his greatsword, his body still throbbing with the lyrium's light.

"You should probably leave," he told Aveline firmly. "They're coming."

Aveline's stomach dropped, and she scrambled to grab her sword and shield. She didn't realize fully what he meant until a few seconds later, when things started to crawl out of the pit.

Drakes. Lots of them.

She screamed for Donnic, not sure whether to warn him away or call him to help.

With a scream of rage that shook Aveline to her core, Fenris was upon the drakes with his sword, still bathed in the eerie lyrium glow. His Sword Of Mercy shone with magical light, feeding from the lyrium in his body. He took them apart, one by one.

It was the one thing he truly knew how to do, the thing he was made to do. To fight, to kill, to destroy. Not one claw or tooth touched him; he had gone entirely intangible, but for his sword. He carved through the beasts, not neatly as he normally would, but brutally and with great relish. He cut them to pieces as they shrieked and swiped uselessly at his glowing form, which hovered in that in-between place where his lyrium brands held him.

With belated help from Aveline, and Donnic at last racing down into the chamber to help, the cave was soon littered with corpses.

Fenris stood panting in the center of them all, looking for something else to kill.

"_Venit pugnare me! Volo magis_!" he shouted at them, shaking still with rage. He stormed over to the cliff and looked down - there were no more dragons to face. He had killed them all.

"_Hostibus pugnare non est amplius? quae ratio mihi vivere?"_

Donnic grabbed his wife's hand, and they stood there watching.

"Hawke!" He wobbled on his feet, and screamed her name down into the darkness one last time. "HAWKE!"

The light died out as suddenly as it had come. Fenris fell to his knees, and they rushed to grab him before he could fall any further. Aveline laid him backwards onto the ground. He was unconscious, but she felt a pulse still in his neck.

"We'll have to carry him back," she told her husband. "And straight to the clinic if we can. Maker only knows what he's done to himself now."

Donnic grabbed her arm suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

"Don't you start..."

"Listen!"

And then she heard it.

Very faint. Very far away.

But very much real.

A voice that said,

_"hello up there!"_

Aveline froze in place. "HAWKE?" She called back down into the pit.

_"aveline?"_

The couple's eyes met in disbelief. It was real.

It was Hawke.

And she sounded pissed.

* * *

Author's fun facts: all my Arcanum is courtesy of Google Translate Latin.

Translations are roughly as follows:

_Venit pugnare me! Volo magis! _= come and fight me, I want more!

_Hostibus pugnare non est amplius?_ = are there no more enemies to fight?

_quae ratio mihi vivere? = _why do I still live?


	10. First of the Gang to Die

When Hawke awoke in the pit, something was chewing on her leg.

She registered it dully, without surprise. The pain seemed very disconnected from her at first, until suddenly it wasn't and everything jumped into sharp focus.

Utter darkness surrounded her. Jagged rocks battered her face and hands, and a crunching sound accompanied the pain in her right leg.

Hawke screamed and kicked out with all of her strength, connecting successfully with her attacker. She scrambled at the pebbled floor and tried to pull herself out from under the thing. Her left arm was no good; the right couldn't get a grip on anything solid.

Something grabbed her ankle and squeezed hard, pulling her back.

Desperately her good arm fumbled at her waist and came up with the dagger still sheathed there. She jammed it into the thing clamped to her ankle and stabbed again and again.

Something hit her sharply, followed by a second impact as she crashed into something large and solid. Then there was nothing.

She might have blacked out.

She became aware of a rustling noise nearby, and remembered the thing she had stabbed. Whatever it was flopped awkwardly, hopefully in its death throes. In case it decided to chew on her again, Hawke clutched the knife and elbowed herself along the floor. At the source of the movement she stabbed again and again, all along the bulk of its body, until everything was still and quiet.

Slowly, she sat up and assessed the damage.

Okay. Okay. It wasn't so bad. She was wearing armor. The bites to her leg hadn't gotten through the armored plate - battered it pretty badly and she was going to have a hell of a bruise, but no chunks were missing out of the leg, at least.

She felt around to examine the dead thing that had tried to eat her, and her hand encountered scales. A lizard, big, with wings. A drake. Hadn't she seen one of those recently?

Shit. Her head hurt. She just wanted to lie down again and sleep some more.

Why was it so dark?

Blindly, she traced the walls around her. There was a ceiling above her low enough that she would not be able to stand. _If _she could stand.

It was some kind of warren. Where the drake lived, presumably. It was dragging her home to eat her. Must have got impatient on the way. Lucky for her.

She seemed to remember fighting some of these things, somewhere with more light. A cave. The Bone Pit! And then she was falling...

Ugh. She'd been in the mines a million times; there was never a hole in the floor there before. Where the hell was she now?

She needed to get somewhere with light. Fumbling around in the dark was bad.

Her left arm was numb. It was still there, she confirmed with her other hand, but useless. As well, much of her face was numb, when she felt at it. It felt puffy. She was still wearing her helmet, thank goodness. It had probably saved her life.

Hawke picked a direction and started crawling. Hopefully this was leading her back in the direction she had come from, rather than deeper into the drake's lair.

It was slow going with only one good arm. Her iron plate dragged along the rocks and made an incredible racket, but the narrow tunnel dampened it somewhat.

Anders, Merrill, Fenris and Varric. They were with her. Where were they now? Had they been dragged off too? Or was she alone? She had a glimpse of Fenris's horror-struck face just as she went over the edge. So at least somebody knew where she was, assuming he hadn't gone over as well.

Then she had fallen. It seemed to go on for a long time before the world exploded in pain. This was no small shaft. She could be deep underground.

Crawling on hands and knees, Hawke progressed through the tunnel, until her hand encountered empty air in front of her. The ground just... stopped.

She felt all around. Before her was a large empty space. The ground jutted out into into it for maybe a few feet, providing just enough of a ledge for her to have landed on, hours ago. Above her she could see a tiny, flickering pinprick of light.

Hawke eased herself into a sitting position. For awhile she sat and contemplated the pinprick of light, already exhausted from her exertions so far. There was light up above. It was a long way away, but if she could see it, it was reachable.

With any luck, her friends would be able to find her.

* * *

Things got fuzzy for awhile.

Hard to tell how much time passed, sitting in the dark. It could have been hours, or days, or minutes.

As she often did when stranded somewhere unpleasant, Hawke thought about her home and her bed, and her little household there. Orana was probably preparing a meal or fussing over her garden, and Bodhan would be off to market to restock the larder. Sandal would be wandering about, creating little disasters for Bodhan to rescue him from. And Anders would be in the clinic, as he always was these days.

Maybe today he wasn't. Maybe he was looking for her right now. She'd like to think he was. Hawke had a sudden vision of being reunited with her tearful lover, and everything going back to the way it used to be, years ago, when they were deliriously happy together.

Fat chance, that. But she indulged herself a little. Anders all to herself. No clinic, no manifestos. No quests. Just the two of them. Anders the way he used to be, when he had emotions other than anger. When he seemed to enjoy her companionship and they could speak of things other than mages and templars, and stay in bed for days on end.

It was selfish of her. She knew that. So she never asked it of him. But she ached for it, regardless.

At some point, she took a lazy inventory of everything she had in her possession. Her dagger had already come in handy. A little bit of poison for her weapon. She had some healing poultices and salves that she'd forgotten about. She also had some rations tucked away, and a flask of water.

Without thinking, she used everything up. She didn't mean to, but everything hurt and she was just stuck sitting here alone, might as well do something while she waited for aid. After a few poultices, her head stopped aching quite so much, and she was starting to feel pins-and-needles in her arm. Then she took out the food and water.

When she ate them, and her head cleared a little bit, she realized that no one was coming.

How could they? It was a long way down, and there was no light. This was no natural cliff, who knew if it was even climbable? They had no way of knowing where she was and how badly she was hurt. Even if they tried to come for her, it was unlikely they would find her way down here.

Damn. If only she had convinced Flemeth to teach her that turning-into-a-dragon trick. That would have come in extremely handy right about now.

There weren't many courses of action to choose from. She couldn't just sit here forever. For one thing, there could be more hungry drakes around, and getting eaten was one of the more unpleasant ways to die. So that left two things: up or down. Down could lead somewhere, she supposed - some other tunnel, perhaps - but in all likelihood down was death. Either slow, by getting stuck and starving to death, or fast, via gravity.

Up it was.

Climbing in the dark was going to be tricky, if not impossible.

She could do impossible. Had done it already, a couple times.

And whenever there was a choice between waiting around for potential death, and running towards it, Hawke was inclined to run.

So she pulled herself up to her feet and started feeling around the walls for something to grab onto. Merrill had taught her a little bit about climbing, over on Sundermount.

- All those times up and down the mountain, and never once had she fallen! And then the ground in her own damn mine opens and swallows her whole! Of all the things to happen -

There, she jammed her foot into a crack in the wall and pulled herself up the first length. Balancing on the toe of her boot, she could reach up and grab a jagged rock above her, and fumble with her other foot for another toehold.

A little at a time, that would do it. Just don't rush. There will be more tunnels in the sides, she could go from one to another and rest. No problem. She could do this.

Her progress was slow. Excruciatingly slow, especially for someone as impatient as Sadie. Blindly, she had to grope for a handhold, never knowing if there would even be a suitable one or if she would have to back down and try another direction. Finding one, she needed to remember from a few moves back where to jam her boot into for her next foothold, before pulling herself up another foot or so.

And then, do it again. And again. And again.

It was hard to say how much progress she was making in the pitch blackness. Some time went by, enough to leave Hawke sweaty and panting. By luck she found a spot wide enough to sit on and perched there for a time, catching her breath, wiping the sweat out of her eyes. She should have rested longer, but she was eager to move up the long wall and into the light - a tiny glimpse of light which, discouragingly, had grown no larger for all her efforts.

Still, it seemed easy enough. Through steady effort she would reach her goal. Perhaps be home in time for supper. And if nobody was waiting for her at the top, she would be well justified in dragging them out of their beds and putting a good scare into them for their failure to rescue her, _not that she needed their help at all after all thank you very much._

Such thoughts as these crowded out her sense of caution, and as she rushed through her next few grips, disaster struck.

She was climbing again, already moving into her next foothold before her current one was quite stable. Rock crumbled beneath her right foot, catching her utterly by surprise, and she started sliding down. She clutched uselessly at the cliffside, to no avail. Her grip on the wall slipped under the weight of her armor, and she slid faster, slamming into the flat rock that had served as her last resting point.

"Oof." Dazed, Hawke hung halfway off into empty space, waving her arms to try to right herself. But things were about to get worse: the sound of rockfall and clanging metal summoned a scurrying sound from within the wall that made Sadie's stomach drop.

A dragonling was on her almost immediately, and she hurled it over her shoulder with an angry cry. A long screech tracked its fall into the darkness.

Another was approaching, and Hawke had to decide between righting herself and drawing her knife. She chose the knife, foolishly as it turned out. Unable to see, she ended up stabbing into empty space, until the thing slipped up and bit her on her knife arm.

Hawke screeched in pain and frustration. "Somebody help me!"

Her desperate words rebounded in the narrow pass, and she immediately knew she had made a terrible mistake.

Her cry only summoned more of the things, which now swarmed from all directions and climbed onto her, tearing and scratching, until overweighted by their bulk Hawke pitched backwards into empty air.

It could only have been a few seconds of falling, but it felt like an eternity.

She landed on her back with a searing burst of pain in her left shoulder. Happily, she also landed directly atop several of the dragonlings, the impact killing them instantly.

Panicking, she flailed all of her limbs to shake off the tiny dragonkin still clinging to her. With bare hands she tore at their flesh and flung them away from her. Her fingers found her knife thankfully lying nearby and slashed away, until everything was still once again and her ragged breathing was the only sound.

_Still alive, you lucky bastard _she told herself, before she passed out.

She would realize, when she awoke, that she had fallen all the way back to where she started.

* * *

_Hawke dreamed. In the dream, she sat beside a roaring fire in the sitting room of the manor where Fenris lived. The elf himself sat in front of her. He was trying to tell her something important. But she couldn't understand what he was saying; she didn't know these words. She shrugged at him helplessly, and he looked sad and frustrated._

_Even so, there was a sense of relief in this dream, a feeling that all was well. Here in this place that had become a refuge for her from the wreckage of her life, with one of her few friends that was better off now than before she made their acquaintance, Hawke felt more at peace than anywhere else in the world. She did not worry that she couldn't understand what Fenris was trying to tell her. In time they would understand each other fully._

Hawke awoke in the dark and tried to hang onto the warmth of her dream. But it couldn't last in this place, and soon again she was cold and alone.


	11. Down We Go Together

Hawke rested awhile before trying again. She knew her strength would not hold out long without food and water, but she made herself wait for the stinging pain of her many scratches to die down first, hoping that her mind would clear.

Practical. She had to be practical. She had gone too fast and reacted without thinking and very nearly gotten herself killed. Rushing into danger and acting on instinct had always worked out for her in the past, but this situation was different. She had no one and nothing to fall back on, and that called for a more cautious approach.

Caution and practicality - that was Aveline's department. What would Aveline do? As much as the Guard Captain annoyed the hell out of her, Hawke drew comfort in imagining the red-haired warrior at her side.

Her imaginary Aveline said, "Must you always be in such a blighted hurry? Stop and think a little." Hawke made a face at her. If it were up to Aveline, nothing would ever get done. But, she reminded herself, she was supposed to be seeking her advice. "You fell because you were **too heavy**. Lighten your load. Get rid of anything unnecessary."

Hawke considered this point. Having so little to work with, everything seemed necessary. But it was true that she was over weighted and it had nearly cost her life.

The armor would have to go.

The heavy plate had done well to protect her from Drakes and Dragonlings, but it was too heavy and too stiff for climbing, and would only slow her down. It rattled and clanged, as well, and she needed to make as little noise as possible to avoid summoning more hungry reptiles.

Hawke slowly detached the plate from her arms and legs, a long and arduous task using only her right arm, and removed the chest piece.

She wondered if she had taken one too many knocks to the head by now, to even consider leaving her armor behind. If she would fall again, or be attacked, she would have nothing to protect her. But she felt there was little choice, as she doubted she would have the strength much longer to drag herself along under its weight.

She left her helmet on. At this point, she wasn't sure she could get it off. Her swollen cheek pressed directly against the metal and felt stuck to it - when she tried to investigate with her fingers, she realized she could not open her left eye. She could pry it open, perhaps, but there was no point when there was nothing to see. The helmet could stay; she would probably need it.

Her shoulder ached, and her left arm, while no longer numb, prickled angrily. It would not be much use for pulling her up - she could only use it to brace herself a little while her good arm reached for the next hold.

Having plummeted twice now, she was increasingly nervous of attempting it again. This was impossible, _really_impossible. How could she possibly scale a mountain-sized climb, in the dark, with one arm? For the first time, Hawke began to be afraid.

Not so afraid to die – as a warrior, she had faced death many times. But in battle she had always had companions at her side. It had never seemed so bad to die with her valiant lover beside her, with her friends at her back, with her sister close by. Dying alone, where she would probably never be found, that was a different thing.

She stood, knowing that if she waited much longer she would be too scared to try again. She was considerably lighter and more flexible without the armor, but she hurt everywhere. There was nothing for it - she had used all of her medicines up, would simply have to endure.

Hawke drew a deep breath and began once again to climb.

* * *

The loneliness made everything worse.

Hawke was a talker by nature. Her tongue was as an effective a weapon as her axe, and rare was the situation she could not remedy with its use.

More importantly, though, she drew strength and enthusiasm from her companions, through their barbs and stories. Her lively mind fed off the interaction and it kept her light-hearted.

By herself, she tended to sink into dark thoughts.

Once Hawke had been climbing for awhile, even with the added difficulty of feeling her way in the dark, the process of reach-pull-step-climb became mechanical and her mind crowded with thoughts she would usually banish but was now helpless to combat.

All of her failures - to her family, to her lover, to herself.

Her mother's death most of all. She had not been able to face Bethany afterwards, had found every excuse not to visit even though she was granted permission. It was one thing to explain the tragedy in a letter, but to look her sister in the eye and remember the full horror of it to her was the one thing Hawke could not bear to do. Not when she looked so like Mother.

In the dark, there was nothing to distract her mind's eye from the sickening memory of her mother's shambling corpse.

Desperately, she tried to remember happier things. Just days ago, in the tavern, Varric had been telling some crazy exaggeration of their Deep Roads adventure, and she noticed how the demon they had encountered there grew larger with every telling.

If she could only hear one of his stories now. It might banish the despair, make the darkness more bearable.

But if she could wish for anyone at her side right now, it wouldn't be Varric. He was great for a laugh and always had your back, but when it came right down to it he would rather be holding court at the Hanged Man than shedding blood, and she liked him better that way too.

Another grip, and Hawke pulled herself up another foot.

She would not wish Anders at her side either. She would be too afraid for him to be able to worry for herself. There was something fragile about him, more so than when they had met years ago. The dark circles under his eyes and the mild tremor in his speech spoke to the change. He was not a weak man, but his grip on himself had become more tenuous over the years. He had become too reliant on Justice to power him through terrible times, and Hawke could not trust Justice. She was increasingly protective of her lover, and consumed much of her energy watching and worrying over him.

Perhaps he sensed that, and that was why... but never mind. Hawke didn't want to think on it now.

She was getting slower. She had to admit to herself that her energy would eventually run out. She took longer to rest between each grip, and though it was much easier to pull herself up without the additional weight of her armor, her strength was depleting rapidly.

Fenris, he was the companion she wished for. Not that she would wish probable death upon him, which was what it would mean to summon him here. But his presence would be the most comforting for her. They had fought together a great deal and worked well in tandem, as a team. He had a way of bolstering her confidence, of quieting her doubts, that she could really use right now.

She remembered, vividly, the moment before she had dueled the Arishok and become Kirkwall's Champion. Ha! The Champion! If only they knew how frightened she had been. The Arishok was more than twice her size, fiercest of all the kossith, even the least of whom was a fearsome opponent. She had declared herself with all the bravery she could muster and only the elf had seen her hands shake. He had taken her aside as the room was prepared for their duel and given her his sternest glare.

"Hawke. Do not hesitate before the Arishok, he will be faster than you think. Keep him at a distance and stay in control."

She implored him, "Fenris, if he wins you all have to be on him right away. You have to defend the city. Get the others ready."

He put a clawed hand on either side of her face and held her still. With a calm certainty he told her: "I am not worried, Hawke. You are going to win."

For no real reason, she believed him.

And he was right, of course, although it had not been easy. Nothing ever was, she grumbled as rock crumbled beneath her hand just as she started to pull herself to it, forcing her to search for a new direction in which to climb.

She imagined Fenris grumbling at her for every moment she started to feel sorry for herself, and it made her smile. _A few hundred feet of rock and you fall to pieces, _she joked to herself. _Try escaping the Imperium with ten pounds of lyrium on your back, then you'll really know some adversity._

She never had to worry about Fenris, not really. Maker knows he had his troubles, and could be thoroughly impossible to deal with at times, but she knew in the end that he would be all right. She did what she could to aid him but he didn't need her, not truly. Had he found himself in some other city with some other people she felt he would be none the worse for it. By sheer willpower alone he had endured the unendurable and was slowly healing from it. He would be all right.

She was honored, really, to be able to see the man he was becoming before her eyes. That he would let her see this, when he was so intensely private, touched her deeply. All of those nights when she could have been sitting in her empty home, with her family dead or gone and her lover away every night, she spent instead in his company. Had she ever told him how much she appreciated that?

Hawke's legs were shaking now, the abused muscles protesting. There was no real way to rest, clinging to the wall like this. All she could do was find a solid foothold to stand on and stop for a few breaths to try to rebuild her strength. Finding a good spot, she pressed her forehead to the cool rock and resumed her lonely conversation.

_Oh Fen, did you know I had a terrible crush on you, when we first met? All those times I tried to flirt, and you just laughed it off. Were you really not interested? Or did you think I was kidding?_

_I never had to guess with Anders. He pursued me openly. He was romantic, affectionate. I thought things with him would be more straightforward. Shows what I know, right?_

_I'm not sorry I'm with him. I love Anders. But I do think of how things might have been different if you'd felt the same way. I wish I could tell you that. _

Her legs had stopped quivering, and there was no time to waste. As she prepared to climb again, Hawke thought she heard something; a voice, maybe? She had been talking to herself too much, perhaps she had imagined it.

Then she heard it again. A female voice, somewhere up above.

Wracked with indecision, Hawke twisted around this and that, trying to see. Someone was looking for her? She should call back to them, but it might bring the dragonlings back and she may not hold up under another attack. If only she could see them, know they were real and close.

But the voice stopped, and Hawke could not be sure she hadn't imagined it.

Not long after that, she had seen the lights.

Far away at first, seeming to emanate from the steady pulse of light above her (which had finally grown in size, but was still no bigger than her pinky fingernail). These lights were different in kind and quality. They were green and steady, and they moved. They moved towards her, closer and closer.

With her left hand, which could just manage to grasp at things if not hold them, she forced her left eye open, pulling at the swollen skin to raise the eyelid.

It had been so long since she had seen able to see that at first she saw only flashes, overwhelming her sight. Two flashes, like twin stars. They left spots behind her eyes when she closed them.

In time, the light became more bearable and she could actually look at them. Little lights that moved like fireflies. Clearly magical. They looked familiar.

The little lights settled just outside of arms reach, level with her head, and stayed there.

It seemed too good to be true. A dream or a hallucination, perhaps, or maybe she had already fallen to her doom and this was her afterlife - stuck here climbing forever. How horrid.

Morose thoughts aside, Hawke could now see what she was doing. Finally she could see her hand, caked with blood, clutching the wall before her. She could see the shape of the cliff around her. And she could see where to put her limbs next.

At first it was actually harder to climb with the light, since she had grown accustomed to performing her task blindly. But after a few steps her speed increased dramatically. She didn't have to grope blindly for her next hold; now she could gain some ground.

The lights traveled with her, circling around her head with a friendly sort of curiosity.

Some time later, when Hawke reached a ledge that would allow her to sit and contemplate them, she realized where these little fireflies had come from.

Merrill! Merrill's magic had its own sort of greenish flavor to it, and these gentle spell wisps reminded her strongly of the Dalish elf.

Bless her silly little heart, sending her these.

So someone at least had remembered her. If she got close enough, perhaps she would encounter a search party.

With this hope to cheer her, Hawke slumped over and fell into a light sleep for several hours.


	12. I'll Never Be Anybody's Hero Now

To her horror, when Hawke awoke the spell wisps had dimmed considerably.

Idiot! She had wasted their light!

Hawke pulled herself together hurriedly. She would have to get moving again, climb as much as she possibly could while she could still see. Above her head, the flickering light that was her goal had grown to the size of a coin in her vision, and was clearly the firelight of the chamber she had fallen from.

She might actually make it! Though still far, her goal seemed within reach. Oh, to lie down her aching body in her own bed, that was the most wonderful thought in the world. _Just a little bit longer_, she told herself.

Every muscle screamed in protest as she began her climb anew. But she had adrenaline to aid her now. She was getting closer, and she knew at least one person was looking for her, and if she could get near enough... perhaps they were climbing down right now to aid her!

As time dragged on, there was still no sign of anyone in this pit. Not alive, at any rate. She did see a body, in the dim light of the spell wisps, jutting out of one of the dragonling's holes. She had cringed at the sight, hoping none of her companions had fallen in and been devoured. But she could just make out a miner's hat dangling from the stripped skull. One of her workers, poor sod.

Hawke paused in her upward journey and worked her way over to the dismembered corpse, retrieving a bit of gold from the body - a chain, with an emblem dangling from it. Some family member would be glad to have this. It was too bad she had only one good arm, or she might have been able to bring the body for a proper funeral.

Her inspection of the lost miner was interrupted when one of the spell wisps blinked out suddenly, and then relit, a little bit dimmer.

They would not last forever – she needed to move on.

Hours later, she was still pulling herself along. Her body had grown even stiffer, and she feared that if she stopped to rest she would not be able to get back up again. Her body would curl up and clench and refuse to do anything more. So she continued on slowly.

Light fell into the pit now in delicate, twinkling shafts of illumination. She could make out the opposite side and the many holes in it. Nests.

She took care, now, to be quiet. So close to her goal, she would not risk another attack. She even pulled off her helmet, to prevent it clanking against the cliff wall every time she leaned against it. She chucked the thing straight into the center of the abyss below her, the sight of the helmet disappearing down into the dark making her briefly nauseous.

Her vision improved considerably without the gear cutting it off at the sides, and she could certainly move her head more freely. One of the spell wisps had died away, and the second was sputtering. It sat on her shoulder like a tame bird and flared weakly. It was no matter - they had gotten her most of the way up and she was grateful for their help. She would be able to see without their aid very soon.

Now and then she would be dizzy, and would have to stop moving and wait for it to pass. The sight of her own hands, which she had stared at for so many hours, seemed to be getting farther and farther away from her, as though retreating down a long tunnel, and everything became darker again.

She shook herself vigorously, to keep her traitorous body awake.

No sleep. Not here. She could not rest now until she got to the top. If she fell asleep like this she would die. And although it was getting harder and harder to care about that, when her waking hours were so endlessly painful, Hawke was stubbornly determined to survive.

It may have crossed her mind, once or twice, that if she would only let go she could see them again. Mother and Father and Carver. But no. Not yet. Not today.

(Why did she always end up struggling alone for survival? Why was there never someone there to help her, after all she had done to help others?)

Hawke could not think of anything coherently now. Her body was proceeding on its own, grasping and climbing.

In this stupor of pain and plodding motion, Hawke reached inadvertently into a nest.

Unthinkingly she reached even further in, wondering if she could drag herself into it, before her hand encountered something warm, something that jerked at her touch.

_Ohshit._

Suddenly very awake, she hurried past the hole, hoping the thing inside would be asleep, would not be hungry, would not emerge. As usual, she had no luck. A screech emanated from inside the nest and a long, large head emerged below her, looking around.

_ohshitohshit. A drake._

_gogogogogogogogogo_

Eyes focused firmly on her goal, Hawke rushed ahead, moving faster than she had in many hours. Her heart hammered in her chest and she panted with the effort, and pretended she didn't hear the rustling sound of the drake pulling itself out of its nest.

She kicked at the talons suddenly grabbing at her foot, and whimpered. _oh no please I'm so close..._

Hawke chewed her lip so not to scream as the thing bit into her uncovered leg, letting out only an involuntary whimper. With all her strength she clung to the wall. It pulled at her, to try to drag her down, and her vision exploded with agony.

The part of her mind that still functioned was searching desperately for a solution. What- what could she do? No axe, no armor, one good arm that clung to the wall. How could she kill this thing? Her mind whirled uselessly.

The rest of her simply hung on.

The thing pulled again, and tore through skin and muscle. An involuntary cry squeaked out, and she saw to her horror that _more of the things were coming_, drawn to the noise and the light and the blood that dripped from her leg. Little and big, the lizards skittered along the cliff-face, expertly spitting in the face of gravity.

They were going to eat her a little bit at a time, suspended here in the dark.

Tears streamed down her face as another of the things raked its talons across her back.

_help me somebody help me please_

Again between being eaten and falling to her death the latter was a more appealing option. Why hang on now when all hope was lost? Let go. Let go. Her family was waiting for her. Let go.

Crying, she tried to shake them off, to take another handhold and climb up. She wasn't ready to die yet. Please, Maker, not yet. To her last breath she would keep climbing.

A great maw reached beneath her good arm and clamped around her breastplate, biting down with a great popping sound that punctured something inside.

And then -

And then-

there was

a light?

Yes. The light. Everything stopped because of the light.

The air above her crackled with energy, and all the things tearing into her were drawn up into the eerie blue light.

The claws and teeth left Hawke still clinging to the wall, shaking and crying in pain and terror.

_Blue light... Anders? Anders, my love, is that you?_

Hawke gulped and gasped and fought to bring herself under control. Someone was up there. A sudden burst of petulant stubbornness propelled her to climb again. There was terrible damage to her body, she knew, but the feeling of it stayed strangely distant. She pushed up, climbing to one handhold and then another.

_Anders, you came for me. I knew it._

_Anders, why did you take so long, why did you leave me alone, why do you always...?_

Unchecked tears streamed down her face as she inched along in agony.

Gradually, she could hear voices. Several voices, chatting away.

Chatting?

All the pain and terror of the last few days coalesced into rage.

Were they having a fucking picnic up there, while she bled to death? What on earth were they doing? Why hadn't they come for her?

Securing herself to the wall, Hawke's fury rose into a loud cry.

**HELP ME MAKERDAMNYOU **she screamed.

She had to catch her breath before trying again.

**HELLO UP THERE?**

This time there was a distant cry.

"Hawke?"

"**AVELINE!** Instead of being relieved, Hawke was even more furious. "**WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU DOING UP THERE I NEED HELP**" She choked on a sob. "**YOU ASSHOLES... I need help...**"

The reply floated down to her faintly. "_HAWKE STAY WHERE YOU ARE I'M COMING._"

Someone was coming.

Hawke put her forehead to the stone and tried to stop crying.

It would not do for Aveline to see her cry.

Just a little bit longer. Just hold on a little bit longer.

* * *

_Author's note: hey everybody, thanks for all the comments! You guys are awesome._

_Hopefully I'll be putting up one more chapter later today._


	13. There is a Light that Never Goes Out

Fenris opened his eyes to a rush of activity.

Donnic was doing something with the length of rope, retying it around the stalagmite the way Fenris himself had done earlier, and Aveline was shouting something into the pit.

He watched them both, trying to make sense of the situation. Then he tried to sit up, and was hindered by a crashing wave of dizziness and pain resounding through his skull.

Fenris tried to activate his lyrium brands for an extra burst of strength, but for the first time in his memory they did not respond.

He could not worry about it now. Something was happening.

"Aveline?" he said weakly, rubbing at his temples.

She turned to him excitedly. "Fenris! Are you all right? Can you stand?"

"I believe so. Give me a moment."

Aveline jumped to her feet and ran to Donnic. The two conferred quickly, and then Donnic was tying the rope around Aveline's waist.

A plaintive voice was calling from somewhere nearby. It said: "_please hurry..._"

The sound raised a lump in Fenris's throat. He was hearing things. Things that could not possibly be real.

Donnic was clamoring to the edge again, looking down. "I don't know if we have enough," he was calling back to Aveline. "But I don't want you climbing without the rope. She'll just have to make it a little farther."

His head hurt terribly, and Fenris knew he had done something harmful to himself. The markings on his skin burned and itched and refused to light. And he was hearing the voice again. The voice he missed so much that it brought tears to his eyes.

"Perhaps I am losing my mind after all," he said, holding his painful head. "I could swear I just heard Hawke's voice."

Donnic stopped suddenly and looked up at him. "Come here," he motioned, with a strange expression.

Fenris was suddenly very nervous, although he couldn't think why.

"You were right, my friend," A smiling Donnic said as Fenris reached him, and clapped him firmly on the back. "Look."

He looked down into the crevasse where he had stared for hours to see only darkness, and he now saw a light. A tiny light, orbiting like a halo around a familiar blonde head.

He saw shaking hands grasping at the bare rock, and a dirty, bloody face looked up to him, still some distance away.

"Little help?" Hawke croaked up at him.

The elf's heart froze in his chest.

Aveline was shouting to Donnic about tightening the line and he was answering her but it was all a distant echo for him now. His vision telescoped into one sight, and only one.

"Sadie?" Fenris whispered.

No matter how long he looked, she did not disappear. It was really her.

"Hawke needs help!" Aveline shouted at him, and jolted him out of his inaction.

In a sudden whirlwind of joy and terror, Fenris rose to aid them. Hawke was alive but not safe; he would not believe it until she was out of the pit and in his arms.

He approached the couple with wide and determined eyes.

"Give me the rope," he hissed. "I must reach her."

Aveline secured the knot around her waist and onto her belt, in the place where her discarded sword would rest.

"I won't. You can't go down there. You will drop her and she will die and it will be your fault," Aveline said bluntly. "I will do it."

Aveline pulled no punches; it was the thing he most respected about her. He scowled at her. But he knew she spoke truly - right now she was stronger than him.

Relucantly, he nodded. There was no one he would trust with this more than Aveline.

Aveline would climb down the side of the cliff while Donnic and Fenris held the rope tightly, should she fall. When she reached the bottom of the rope and grabbed Hawke, the two men would pull them up again.

Donnic kissed her lingeringly at the side of the cliff and helped her over the side.

Fenris was stationed farther back, watching the point where their rope was anchored, to warn them when they were out of line.

"She's still climbing down," Donnic reported, peering over the edge. He sounded tense as well. However capable his wife could be, he was only too aware that tragedy could strike at any time.

His heart pounded frantically in his chest. It made sense for Donnic to watch his wife progress, but not being able to see what was happening was agony. It seemed to take hours. Every second scratched painfully across his awareness, because he knew each moment was another chance for Hawke to fall and perish. Unable to stand still, he paced fretfully and stared at Donnic, watching for any reaction that might signal her fate.

He did not know what he would do if they lost her now.

* * *

Aveline took her time going down, not wanting to take the chance of breaking the rope should she fall. She was not a climber, but she was strong, and she could hang onto both the rope and the cliff with very little trouble.

She came to the gap that Fenris had pointed out to her. "Lower me down!" she shouted up to Donnic, and she felt the line tighten.

Reluctantly, Aveline let go of the cliffside and dangled unnervingly in midair.

Below her she could see Hawke's eyes closed and her face frozen in pain and fear. She hoped Hawke had a little more strength in her.

"Hawke?" she said, a little more sharply than she had intended.

"Took you long enough," the missing woman answered her in a small, raspy voice, and with a pained smile.

A little at a time, Aveline was descending. Hawke was not directly below her but off to the side, to Aveline's right and down.

"THAT'S IT!" Donnic shouted down to her. They were out of rope. This was as far as she could go.

Hawke was still about twenty feet away.

"Sadie?" Aveline said gently. "This is as far as I can come. You'll have to climb up a little more."

Her eyes closed again, and she took several long, painful looking breaths. Then Hawke's right arm reached up, her left hand clawing inefficiently at the wall to hold her in place. Both hands shook convulsively, and the warrior's face twisted in pain as she pulled herself up. Very slowly.

Aveline found the sight so unnerving she had to stop watching. She looked up at Donnic instead, who was watching them avidly, holding her rope steady.

It took so long. Aveline cringed at the cries of pain that came from her friend, and prayed that she would last long enough for their rescue.

Hawke came up level with Aveline, but still she was not within reach.

"You'll have to jump!" she called to her.

"You're kidding," Hawke croaked.

"I'll swing over, but I can't reach you. You have to jump into my arms."

Hawke nodded tiredly, lacking the energy to argue.

Aveline called up to Donnic. "I'm going to swing the rope to get close enough. Hold on tight! I don't want to break our anchor."

The guard-commander she swung her legs, building up some momentum to get her closer to Hawke. Back and forth she swung, the thick rope creaking at the effort.

Hawke watched her dazedly. Aveline worried that at any moment she could drop, and rushed to get closer. "Get ready!" she yelled at her. "When I'm coming over, jump as far over as you can, and I'll catch you."

That sounded about as plausible as anything else in this situation. Hawke nodded shortly and braced herself. She scrunched down into a crouch, painfully, ready to push off with her legs and jump out into the air.

Aveline swung about as close as she dared. "Get ready!"

"Okay," Hawke said softly.

"Now!"

And she jumped.

As far as she could jump from the wall turned out not to be very far at all. Aveline just barely grabbed her flailing wrist, in midair.

Hawke dangled limply from Aveline's arm.

"Sadie! Grab my legs! Sadie!"

Hawke did not respond. She was out cold, hanging in Aveline's one hand.

Aveline tried desperately to pull her up, to get a grip on her torso, but it was no use. She was slippery with sweat and it was all she could do to hold onto her arm with both hands.

"Wake up," she hissed frantically. "Sadie! Wake up!"

Hawke did not respond. A trickle of blood ran from her mouth.

"Pull me up!" she shouted up to the men. "Hawke's passed out! I don't know how long I can hold her!"

* * *

Hawke jumped out into thin air with the very last bit of strength in her and then everything went away.

The next she knew, she was going up. Slowly, haltingly, she was being hauled upwards. A tremendous pressure on her arm told her she was being pulled up by her wrist. She caught a glimpse of empty space under her feet and was out again.

In flashes, she saw Aveline being battered against the cliffside as they both were pulled up, trying to shield her from the rocks.

There was a lot of shouting, and she was too tired to care.

A tremendous yank that nearly pulled her arm from its socket hoisted her up abruptly, in a flash of pain that made her howl.

Then she was being moved again, but the hands upon her were gentle. They lifted her up like a ragdoll and Hawke couldn't seem to raise her head to see what was going on.

She must have used up everything she had to get here. Now her entire body felt impossibly heavy and throbbed with pain.

The moving stopped, and strong arms supported her, and there were more hands.

Somebody was saying her name. Several somebodies.

Who was there? Aveline, she heard Aveline before. Was Anders here?

"Where does it hurt?" someone was saying.

"Ev'r'where..." she told them. Talking hurt too. "arms broke..."

She managed to open just one eye; the other was stuck again.

She saw who was holding her. A blurry person who was not Anders. White hair, green eyes.

Fenris.

"Hey," she managed to say. She summoned a few deep breaths, sending stabbing pains through her chest. "I made it," she told him.

"You did," that familiar, wonderful voice said. "We are taking you home now."

It wasn't a dream, that was definitely him. He was picking her up and holding her against him, and everything hurt but at least she didn't have to move anymore. Fenris was there. He was carrying her and she was going home. It was okay to rest now.

She laid her head against his shoulder and went to sleep.

* * *

_Author's Note: Nope, we're not done yet. I'll be back to update on Monday._


	14. I Won't Share You

Fenris heaved the unconscious Hawke onto level ground and dragged her several feet away for good measure, while Donnic pulled his wife to safety and embraced her.

With Hawke cradled in his arms, he looked over her injuries. She looked awful. Her face had swollen almost beyond recognition, patchworked with red scrapes and dark bruises. She was covered from head to toe in dirt and blood, and her clothes were torn and hanging loose in several places. There was an audible whine to her breathing, which sounded worryingly labored. Her left arm was bent oddly and most likely broken, and her right leg had been badly bitten by some sort of beast, which was already creating a pool of blood on the stone.

He wanted to embrace her, to touch her, to confirm that she was alive and real. But there was no good place to touch her that would not create more pain, and he had to restrain himself. Instead he simply said her name over and over, "Sadie.. Sadie.. Sadie.."

She shivered, and her skin felt cold and clammy when he took her hand.

Donnic was pressing something at him - it was the cape from his guardsman's uniform. Together they tucked it around her.

"She needs water," Fenris said, pointing to Merrill's rucksack.

It took all three of them to wake her, so that she could drink. After a few swallows she opened an eye, the one that was not swollen shut, and looked at Fenris curiously.

Aveline stroked her hair, trying to keep her awake. "Hawke? Hawke, where does it hurt? Can you move?"

She rasped out a short response - it hurt everywhere, her arm was broken. It looked like a lot more than that was broken. She looked broken everywhere.

Her eye focused on Fenris suddenly, and seemed to recognize him. "Hey," she whispered. "I made it."

It was a shame she couldn't see him clearly, she would have noticed the tears that stood in his eyes when he promised to take her home.

Fenris could not be persuaded to let go of her. He lifted her up and carried her out of the Bone Pit, into the sunlight. Whenever Aveline or Donnic attempted to take over his burden, he only held her closer and glared at them wildly.

He hadn't anything to say for the entire journey back to Kirkwall. He needed all of his remaining strength to hold her steady and return her to safety.

Hawke slept lightly, curled against him. She did not dream, but she would later remember the journey as a series of sensations: the warm late afternoon sun caressing her face, the effort required to force air in and out of her suffering lungs, the careful way she was carried so not to jostle her wounds. A few times she opened her one eye and recognized Fenris holding her, looking straight ahead in grim determination, and remembered that she was safe now, and went back to sleep.

As they approached the city gates, Fenris slowed and sank to one knee.

This time he allowed Donnic to take Hawke from his arms. "Go, hurry," he told him.

Hawke whimpered as she left his arms. Donnic lifted her as gently as he could, but she stirred and fretted before settling onto his shoulder.

The elf remained kneeling in the dust, panting, when Aveline bent down with a worried expression. "Fenris, you need rest. You're not well."

"I am fine... Just see to Hawke," he forced out.

She looked torn. "You won't disappear on us, right? I know you don't like Anders, but you need healing almost as much as she does."

"I need only my bed, nothing more."

"Don't be an idiot. You're coming to the clinic. I will absolutely punch you out and carry you myself if I have to."

"I know you will." Fenris actually laughed a little.

"Drink this."

He accepted her flask and waved them away. "I will go where she goes. Take her to the healer... I shall catch up with you."

Donnic took him at his word and walked through the gates, intent on bringing Hawke to Darktown as fast as possible. Aveline followed watchfully. The descent into the undercity was uneventful and silent.

The lantern at the clinic was not lit, as it had not been lit even once in day or night since Hawke had disappeared into the Bone Pit. Still Aveline and Donnic believed Anders to be inside, primarily because he had not been anywhere else in all this time. In all likelihood he had locked himself away to mourn his loss.

Aveline, in no mood for propriety, began pounding on the door.

The clinic remained silent. But Aveline firmly believed there was someone inside. "I'll break this door down if I have to!" she yelled.

**The healer is not seeing anyone today**, a rumbling voice announced from beyond the door.

"It's an emergency!" Donnic shouted, as Aveline continued to bang at the door. "It's Hawke! She's alive!"

At this there sounded a rattling of chains and locks, and the door opened.

Justice stepped through. The body he occupied had grown even more pallid and gaunt than usual, and even the Fade spirit's light seemed muted within it.

"**Do not be foolish. The woman is dead.**"

"She isn't," Aveline snapped. She was inexplicably angry with him, maybe with herself as well. "We were wrong."

Justice looked past her and saw Hawke cradled in Donnic's arms.

"**Oh.**" Justice said, with a new note of surprise. "**Anders has... gone away. A moment.**"

He stood perfectly still then, searching somewhere for the spirit of his host.

"Anders..." Hawke moaned, the first thing she had said since they left the Bone Pit.

At the sound of her voice, the blue light of Justice died away and Anders came back from whatever distant land he had retreated to. He blinked in confusion, as if awaking from a very long sleep.

"Oh my darling," he cried, rushing to her side. He showered her with kisses as she shifted uncomfortably.

"She needs _healing_," Aveline said irritably. "Kiss her later."

"Of course, of course." Anders took his lover from Donnic's arms and carried her inside, speaking to her quietly.

Fenris arrived at the clinic only minutes behind them and found the door open wide, excited voices coming from within. He stepped just inside and leaned against the door to catch his breath.

Hawke laid upon one of the clinic beds, awake and alert once more, as Anders held her hands and spoke loving words into her ear. She smiled at her partner weakly.

When Fenris saw the glow between them that was the beginning of the mage's healing magic, he was finally flooded with relief. Now he knew she would be well. He turned away, his work completed, and stumbled to a pallet in the corner, laid himself down, and passed out.


	15. The Boy With the Thorn in His Side

Hours later, as morning approached and word began to spread of Hawke's miraculous return from the dead, Isabela walked into the clinic. The pirate queen had heard the news directly from Aveline, who she encountered en route to the Hawke estate to inform the household of the good news. Isabela passed the word along to Varric (which was as good as telling everyone in the city personally) and headed straight for Darktown.

She found Hawke asleep with a protective Anders hovering over her, holding her hand and murmuring to her softly. Disliking the smell of self-righteousness in the morning, she decided to avoid the healer. Instead the pirate found Fenris in a corner alone - curled on his side, sound asleep. In all the commotion over Hawke, no one seemed to have taken notice of his presence.

Isabela frowned sympathetically. Of all the luck – the elf finally found Hawke and he had to bring her straight back to Anders. It hardly seemed fair.

She ruffled his shaggy white hair, as she had often been tempted to do. When he did not flinch away from the intrusion her stomach dropped. "Hey," she said, and shook him by the shoulder. "Hey!"

He wasn't responding. Fenris was a notoriously light sleeper, not to waken or at least protest was incredibly unlike him. She put her hands on his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breathing, but there seemed to be no movement at all. "Wake up!" she shouted in his ear.

With an oncoming sense of panic, Isabela bounded across the room and dragged Anders away by the collar.

"Something's wrong, he won't wake up."

Anders grumbled something about lazy elves and their melodramatic pirate admirers, but as he examined the elf he fell silent. Indeed, something had gone very wrong.

Fenris was breathing, but only shallowly. His skin had taken on an alarming grey sheen. With a light caress of magic, the healer had him breathing deeply again. But something was still amiss.

**Something strange has happened to the lyrium brands**, the spirit informed him. Justice had always been especially interested in the elf, a fact that never failed to irritate Anders. **The lyrium is unstable. It has seemed so since the death of Danarius.**

_You pay entirely too much attention to those tattoos. It's a little creepy._

He would need a lot more energy than he had right now to heal whatever this was. And he would need everything he had for Hawke - she was his first priority.

Isabela interrupted his thoughts. "What's wrong with him? He seemed all right before..."

Anders stretched his arms over the elf's still form, probing for any sign of injury. "When did you see him last?"

"Earlier today." Isabela looked uncommonly anxious for him. "But he's been running around the Bone Pit for days looking for Hawke. Without rest or food."

Justice spoke aloud. "**The power he holds has grown wilder. In a weakened state, if he called upon his lyrium brands they would be difficult to control. He has burnt himself out.**"

Then Anders shook himself, and came back into control. It was getting harder and harder to shut the spirit out. "But I don't know how to fix this. I think... if what you say is true, his natural strength has run out. He's been drawing from the lyrium for energy, but it isn't meant for that. He's barely alive."

The pirate's eyes narrowed. She didn't like where this was going. "Fix him."

He consulted with Justice. _Can I repair this damage, and still heal Hawke? I won't risk her._

**We must. He has acted honorably to rescue your Hawke. We owe him a debt.**

_You do it, then. I'm not sure how._

Justice came forward once again. He looked at Fenris curiously. The fade spirit had always been... interested in how the elf had survived with so much raw lyrium implanted in him.

The elf's spirit dwelt in the Fade, and Justice could locate him with surprising ease. His connection to the Fade was unnaturally strong for a non-mage, perhaps a byproduct of his strange status. A living magical weapon, yet not a mage. Fascinating.

_Not relevant right now,_ Anders reminded him.

**It may be. It suggests a way to remedy the problem.**

_I'm not going to like this, am I?_

Without explaining further, Justice intruded on the elf's dream. And Anders saw.

_In an unnatural, anxious sleep, Fenris dreamed over and over again of the Bone Pit. That place that had taken the lives of so many slaves, and nearly took Hawke. He dreamed of the passages he had searched and the place he had stood sentry, and all of the terrible fates that could have befallen Hawke. There he still waited for her, gripped with wordless fear._

Justice ignored the content of the dream, which was unimportant. In his full manifestation as a spirit of the Fade, he drew his energies into a building wave, and channeled them through the dreamer's connection to the waking world.

Fenris cried out in pain as his physical body convulsed, his lyrium brands burning him. Isabela tried to hold him down, but the shock of the raw lyrium pushed her hands back.

His dream, the dream where he had been seemingly trapped in the Bone Pit, suddenly cracked through and Fenris found himself fully conscious in the Fade. Confused, he searched around himself wildly. This place wasn't real. Where was he? Through a haze of pain, he saw Justice there watching him curiously. Not Anders/Justice, but the fade spirit itself.

Though he would not remember it clearly awake, many times afterwards he would dream of the true shape of Justice.

The lyrium song diminished, and the brands cooled and darkened.

Justice opened Anders' eyes and examined the elf. He had quieted, and now slept naturally. His store of energy had been relit for now. With some rest he should be able to replenish his strength himself.

"**That will suffice,** Justice announced. **"He will need a great deal of rest."**

"As will I," Anders added, staggering slightly under the weight of his own body.

"What just happened?" Isabela asked with her hands on her hips.

"Ask me later. I need to lie down." He rubbed his temples and turned away. "Look after Hawke. Wake me if she stirs."

Isabela nodded, and Anders stumbled to his own bed, head spinning with the implications of all that had happened, and what it would mean for Hawke, and for himself.


	16. Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me

Hawke felt truly awful.

On the one hand, she was truly relieved and happy to be home, and for Anders' healing magic that was slowly mending her broken body. To rest at last in a real bed was heavenly; her own bed would be even better, when she could get to it.

But there was disquiet, also, a deep and abiding foreboding that she could not dismiss. There was also serious physical discomfort to contend with. While busy trying to save her own life the pain had been much greater, but she had determination, focus, and adrenaline to drive it back. Now with her survival assured and no longer needing to struggle, she had nothing to do but lie abed and _hurt_.

Anders' healing magics had repaired the worst of the damage - from the puncture to her lung, from the steady loss of blood - but seemingly countless injuries remained, and a steady stream of pain leaked around the edges. The swelling in her face had diminished enough that she could open both eyes, but a bruise remained, purpling the left side of her face. Her chest was bound, for the broken ribs, and her left arm was strapped to her other shoulder. Bandages covered her nearly all over to prevent infection from her many cuts, gouges and bites. Everywhere she ached.

At first she did almost nothing but sleep. Time passed just beyond her awareness, and faces floated in and out of her view. Friendly, happy faces that seemed distant and unrelated to her situation. In between the happy faces there was darkness, the darkness of the Bone Pit, and of being utterly alone.

The feeling would not depart, even with Anders constantly at her side and watching over her. Every few hours he would caress her with his magic and she gloried in its touch (it had been so long), as well as the affectionate physical caresses he gave her whenever she opened her eyes and smiled at him. It made her remember in flashes the heady enchantment of falling in love with him, of realizing this beautiful man loved her - her, the stocky, rough warrior of no great looks or charms. With him watching over her now she wanted to believe he loved her still. But it was a hollow belief, without force or substance.

The longer she was awake, the more the uneasiness grew. She tried her best not to think on the trial of the last few days. At the same time she could think of nearly nothing else. She kept up a cheery disposition, but all the while she felt perpetually on the edge of tears. _Crybaby_, she scolded herself, but that didn't help at all.

After a day of quiet rest she demanded visitors despite Anders' objections. "If I get much more of this quiet I'm going to lose the rest of my marbles," she insisted. "If I must stay in bed I should at least have some entertainment."

"Aren't I entertaining?" he asked, mock-offended.

"Absolutely!" she reassured him tiredly. "But you'll have to start letting other patients in the clinic sooner or later, and I need the distraction. A parade of the Champion's crazy companions should keep me properly busy until I can get out of this bed."

"_If _it will keep you in your bed, I will allow some visitors. One at a time."

* * *

The next morning it started right away, and kept up into the night. Just about everyone she knew came to visit Hawke in the clinic. Neighbors, friends of her mother's, just about everyone who ever graced the Hanged Man... the word of her misadventure had gotten out, and the admirers poured in. No sooner did one visitor leave than the next filed in, making her wonder if she had a queue outside.

She was not as avid a conversationalist as she would normally be. But the Champion's well-wishers had never let disinterest stop them from talking her ear off, and they did most of the work themselves. As for her friends, they more than made up for her moodiness in their enthusiasm.

She could see their happiness but not share in it. It seemed to bounce off an invisible shield around her.

Of course she faked it as best she could. No one seemed to notice the difference, or chalked it up to her recovery. Since her mother's death Hawke had gotten very good at pretending everything was all right.

Official visitors came as well. The tale of her disappearance had finally reached the Viscount's Keep and the Gallows along with the news of her rescue, and they were more than a little put out at not being informed. She got a visit from Knight-Captain Cullen, which was… awkward, considering she was in an illegal apostate clinic. She thought Anders might incinerate him on the spot. But he stayed only briefly, paid his respects, shared a concerned message from the Knight Commander and left.

Hawke's sister came too, under Cullen's escort. She burst into tears at the sight of her injuries and flung herself weeping onto her bed, as Hawke stroked her pretty hair and consoled her.

She had forgotten Bethany's weepiness. The poor girl had cried almost daily when they were children. She was so sensitive to every kind of injury that Sadie had hardened herself against. Every fallen bird would set off hours of tears. An unkind word could make her sullen and troubled for days. So often she had comforted her little sister and struck back at any hapless fool that dared make her cry.

Now they were both grown, and she had not seen Bethany cry since their father had died in Lothering. Not so long ago, really, but it seemed a lifetime. Sadie had forgotten already the feeling of being a big sister, a daughter, of having a real family. It was another reminder of all that she had lost.

She petted her baby sister like they were both children again and she could still protect her from the world. "My Beth," she said soothingly, "everything is all right now."

But they were no longer children, and Sadie could no longer protect her. When the Knight-Captain called her away, the slim mage stood with a determined sniffle and wiped her own tears away. She smiled at her broken big sister and walked away into her own story, one that Hawke was no longer a part of.

Hawke had to take a moment to dab at her own tears before she called her next visitors in.

* * *

The only person who didn't come to see her was Fenris. This was odd, considering how many people insisted that he was somehow instrumental in her rescue.

Varric, for example, had mentioned specifically how determined the elf had been to find her. But when she pressed for details, he never quite explained what Fenris had done. Only that he had been more dedicated than anyone.

Merrill had smiled meaningfully when she asked if Hawke had seen him yet. When Hawke asked her why, she had only giggled and said: "Oh, no reason. I just think he'll be awfully happy to see you, that's all."

Even Orana had mentioned him, when she stepped shyly to her bedside. The timid elf maiden had to be escorted to the clinic, having no experience navigating Darktown. It was a long journey for a girl who had rarely left her estate, and Hawke was touched to see her.

Out of nowhere, she had mentioned: "Master Fenris must be so relieved."

When Hawke had corrected her, saying that she must have meant Anders, the girl had looked at her strangely, and said nothing.

But _where was he_, if he had been so concerned?

It got to where, with each new visitor, she would look hopefully at the door and be disappointed every time it wasn't the white-haired elf. It was making her grumpy at all of the other perfectly wonderful people who _had _taken the time out of their lives to come and see her, and it was all his fault. If he didn't appear soon, he was going to be in big trouble. She would hobble over to wherever he was and hit him with her crutches until he begged her pardon.

Imagining that scenario was not making her feel any better.

That evening, while Anders was out rummaging for supplies, Aveline stopped by, disappearing mysteriously into a side area of the clinic away from the relative privacy of Hawke's bed. Then she returned in a rage.

"No one has told you! Have they? The lousy cowards!"

As she tended to do when perplexed, and with Aveline in general, Hawke took to needling her friend. "Good to see you too! Hey look: I'm alive! Isn't that nice?"

Aveline added a note of worry to her anger. "I was there, remember?"

"I... sort of remember. It all got a little fuzzy at the end there."

Aveline shook her head, grumbling. "Do you remember Fenris?"

Hawke looked at her quizzically. "Glowy elf. Next question?"

"Do you remember him carrying you back to Kirkwall?"

She stopped, and stared thoughtfully into space. "Maybe. That was him? It was all very confusing by then. But I remember... yes..." She had been trying not to think about it, and the details were blurring together in her mind. But she remembered someone holding her. And she remembered leaning against his narrow chest in relief. Yes, that must have been Fenris.

"I think I remember that. But when we got to the clinic, it was just you and Donnic and Anders, and he hasn't shown up since. Where in the world is he?"

"He is here. In the clinic."

"Here?" Hawke stared at the red-haired warrior, stunned. "Then why haven't I seen him?"

"Because he has slept for two days solid."

Hawke sensed she must be missing something here. "I don't understand."

"He was very ill, even more ill than I realized. We brought you here to be healed, and I went to tell Bodhan and the others the news. I should have stayed. I didn't imagine Anders would keep him apart from you, not after what he did."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Fenris is sick?"

"He nearly destroyed himself to save you, Hawke. I hope you'll remember that."

Hawke gave her a disbelieving look. "We're talking about the same grumpy elf, right? Why would he do that?"

"Oh Hawke," Aveline said, exasperated. "For a smart woman, you can be really incredibly dense."

Hawke just stared at her, growing worried. "What **did **he do? I keep asking, and nobody will tell me! Is he all right?"

Aveline sat down on Hawke's bed, a strange expression on her face. "When you... disappeared, Fenris wouldn't leave. The rest of us went home to our beds and he searched for you desperately. He waited days for any sign that you were alive, tried to reach you. He begged us to help you."

To Hawke's skeptical expression, Aveline emphasized: "Yes, Fenris. He begged us. He wanted us to climb into the pit to search for you. But we all felt... there was no way you could have survived. It just seemed so _unlikely_."

Hawke closed her eyes. A jumble of thoughts were fighting for her attention.

_So they left me for dead after all._

_How __**did**__ I manage to live through all of that? It seems unlikely even to me, now._

_Really? Fenris?_

Aveline didn't wait for her to catch up. "He refused to believe it. He insisted you would survive. Not for a moment did he give up on you, even though we all tried to talk him out of it. Even though I..."

Aveline dropped her head, embarrassed. "I tried to force him to give up. I thought I was helping, but... I pushed him too hard. Something happened. He had some kind of fit. His lyrium brands went out of control."

"The light..." Hawke whispered. She had thought it was Anders. But it wasn't?

"He damaged himself. It was my fault. I didn't have his faith in you. I'm sorry, Hawke."

Sadie's voice was very quiet now. "Will he recover?"

"I think so. He's still weak. He went for days without rest or food, and he had injuries from the dragonkin that need to heal. Much like you, actually. I don't know about the lyrium... but it seems like the worst is over."

Hawke digested this. Fenris, injured. Sick. It was hard to imagine. "Why did no one tell me?"

"I suppose no one wanted to admit the truth. We were ashamed of ourselves. And we should be, every one of us. We left you for dead, and we left him too. We told him he was mad for refusing to abandon you. If he hadn't been the stubbornly devoted ass that he is we would never have found you. The only reason Donnic and I were even there was to try to bring him back to Kirkwall, and we happened to hear you shouting."

"It was you and Donnic and Fenris, then? Was Anders there? Was he ever there?" She knew it was entirely beside the point, but she had to know.

"You mean, at the Bone Pit? I don't know. He wasn't when I was there. He certainly didn't do what Fenris did. I don't think he came back for you, Hawke."

Hawke closed her eyes and nodded. She knew it, deep down. That was what she had been trying not to admit to herself ever since she woke up in the clinic.

"I _am _glad you're all right, you know. You have no idea how relieved we all are to have you back."

"Thanks," she answered automatically. More thoughtfully, she added, "And thanks for telling me... all that. The truth."

"I should let you rest," the red-headed warrior said, gathering herself up.

"Could you... tell Fenris something for me?"

"What?"

Sadie racked her brain for the right thing to say, but she was coming up empty. Nothing seemed good enough. "Never mind. I'll tell him myself."

Aveline looked satisfied. "Good. That's good. When you're both feeling better, you should talk."

And the Guard-Captain left Hawke alone, with a storm raging within her.


	17. Sorry Doesn't Help

When Anders returned to the clinic, passing Aveline along the way, he found Hawke staring up at the ceiling with a troubled look on her face.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked worriedly, bending over her and resting his hand against her forehead. "I knew you would tire yourself out. That's it, no more visitors."

"When were you going to tell me?" she said quietly.

The question had a jagged edge to it; it signaled danger approaching.

Anders only brushed her hair from her forehead tenderly, and said in an affectionate tone: "Tell you what, darling?"

Wrong answer.

"Were you ever going to tell me that Fenris is here? Here in the clinic? In the next _bloody room_?"

Anders straightened, and his face assumed a blank expression she was becoming very familiar with.

"Oh, him. Maker, Hawke, if I'd known it mattered I would have told you right away."

Sadie scowled at him. "No big deal. I've just been lying here wondering why one of my best friends hasn't come to see me after I came back from the dead. Of course it matters!"

"Look." Anders ran a hand through his long blonde hair, an old habit of his when he was nervous. Hawke knew him all too well. "You have a lot of recovering to do, Sadie. I just didn't want you to be distracted. That's all."

For someone who did a fair amount of lying, Anders was truly terrible at it. A cold feeling spread in Hawke's belly.

"What else haven't you told me? How was he injured?"

"It's nothing serious," Anders said. "He just overexerted himself and needs to rest."

"That isn't what Aveline tells me. She said he could have died."

He narrowed his eyes at that. "Aveline exaggerates. And she agreed not to trouble you until you were better."

_He's jealous,_Sadie saw. And she couldn't help being glad, fiercely, bitterly glad. It was more feeling than she had gotten from him in months. At least it was something. At once she was ashamed of herself, and felt slightly pathetic. She had never really realized how bad things had gotten between them until now.

"He will recover fully?"

"Of course." He threw in a quick aside- "Justice is concerned about his lyrium brands, they may be.. malfunctioning. But he'll be fine."

"Is he awake? Could I talk to him?"

"No, Hawke, he is resting and you need to stay in bed."

"I just want to make sure-"

The healer cut her off. "He's **fine**." He shook his head solemnly. "I just can't understand your fascination with that wretched elf. He's done nothing but snarl at us and cause you trouble from Day One."

"We've discussed this. He's been every bit as loyal and dependable as the rest of us. And he's a friend."

"Some friend. A crazed, blood-thirsty mage-hater. I tell you, you keep extending a hand to him, he'll bite it off at the knuckle. He's more animal than man."

"Don't you dare!" Sadie shouted at him abruptly, pulling herself upright in the bed.

The lovers stared at each other.

Hawke settled back again, painfully aware of the line she was crossing. "Fenris did more for me in the last few days than you have in a long time. If it were up to **you**, I would be dead right now. So show a little respect."

There was a long silence.

"You didn't need his help, or anybody's," Anders said, looking somewhere over her head. "You never have. You pulled yourself out of that hole."

"And, what, you're disappointed?" Her jaw clenched as she recalled how terribly alone she had been. "Have I not suffered enough for you? Do you know what it was like to wake up forgotten in the dark, knowing no one would come for me? Well gee, I'm sorry I didn't just lie down and die so you could feel better about yourself!"

"Sadie!"

"No, I am! And I'm sorry I never stepped back and let you lead us into war with the Templars like you always wanted! I'm sorry I didn't follow all your instructions without question! I should just shut up and let you do your covert mage underground thing without worrying my little head about it!"

"That isn't what I wanted at all!"

"Isn't it? That **is** why you stopped coming home to me, isn't it? When I stopped doing your little errands without asking what they were for? You gave up on me, Anders. That's what the problem is! You gave up on me _ages _ago."

Suddenly Anders slammed his fist onto a tray of glass bottles, knocking several of them off to shatter on the floor. Now he was angry too, and for once Justice didn't show himself.

"You're angry at me because Fenris waited around for you and I didn't? Is that it? Do you have any idea what I've been through? I was falling apart without you, Sadie! Justice had to bring me home and keep me going the whole time! I closed the clinic – I haven't left here since it happened! If Justice hadn't taken over I don't know what I might have done! _What do you want from me_?"

"You could have believed in me a little," Hawke said, frustrated.

"Should I have been the big hero and saved you? As if you would thank me for that!" A bitter edge crept into his voice. "I'm sorry if I couldn't be properly _stoic _and _rational_ about this, I was a little busy coping with the crushing grief of losing the love of my life. I doubt _he _has any feelings at all!"

"Do you want to talk about _feelings?_ Let's talk about feelings." Hawke spoke faster and louder the more agitated she became. Her throat ached with the strain. "How about lonely, there's a feeling for you. Lonely because my lover doesn't talk to me anymore, not really, and he certainly doesn't come to my bed. How about sad? How about feeling guilty and selfish for wanting just a little bit of your time? I know your feelings. I do nothing _but_ think about your feelings. When do my feelings start to matter?"

She felt, as she usually did when she tried to argue with Anders, like a petulant bitch. But she couldn't help it. The flood-gates had opened, and now everything she had been keeping inside came pouring out.

"Our whole relationship has been about you, what you need, how you're feeling, and of course _your cause_. Your all-consuming mission. Next to that I'm just an afterthought, if anything at all! I'm the person who helps you sometimes when you need something or when you want a warm body, but when I need you, when I _need _you, Anders, you're never there. It's always me sitting here alone hoping eventually you'll _show up_."

Anders, still stuck on Fenris, seemed to hear none of what she was saying.

"All he had to do was wait around for you, and suddenly he's a big hero? My fault for having responsibilities! Fenris, he has nothing else in his life, he can go sit in the Bone Pit, he doesn't have patients to look after and apostates constantly approaching him for protection! I'm the one who used up everything I had to heal the both of you!"

"This isn't about Fenris! We're done talking about Fenris! I'm talking about you and me! And the lying! And how everything else comes first! Do I even rank in your priorities?"

A coughing fit took her, bending her back down on the bed.

Anders rushed to her side, his hands rubbing her soothingly. "Sadie, Sadie, you need to calm down. You're still not well."

Still coughing, Hawke curled onto her side. "Go away," she choked out.

"Just let me-"

"Leave me alone," she rasped, squeezing her eyes shut.

He lingered, waiting for her to call him back. To take back what she'd said, so he could embrace her and chalk it up to injury and stress and never speak of it again.

But she didn't, and finally he walked out of the clinic, banging the door shut behind him.


	18. I've Changed My Plea to Guilty

Fenris slept for a long time.

He dreamed endlessly of the Bone Pit, searching through the dark tunnels for Hawke. And when he awoke in the clinic, confused and delirious and lost, he asked over and over, _where is she_?

Did he dream it, when they had pulled her from the pit? Hawke was alive? Hawke was here? She was still all right? She had not died in the night? She had been so broken when they brought her back; it pained him to think of it. Was she better?

He was not well. Getting better, but still weak, and by nature such weakness made him anxious. Feverishly this fear, the fear for Hawke, returned over and over again.

He needed to see her with his own eyes, needed it physically, like water, like air. Death had been so close and he was frightened for her.

The healer, meanwhile, grew more and more annoyed with him. Yes, Hawke was alive, she was recovering, do not trouble her. She cannot walk yet, and neither can you. Stop asking. Be quiet and rest.

Aveline came once, her brow knit together with concern. Weakly he implored her to check on Hawke, tell him how she fared. She too grew angry, but, it seemed, not with him. Instead of chastising him she disappeared into the clinic proper.

Shortly afterward he heard shouting. He thought he heard Hawke, and though he knew she should be resting, and that he should be furious that someone would upset her now, it gladdened his heart to hear her voice again.

Then it was quiet, and he lay awake.

He imagined Hawke would be on her feet soon, hopefully soon, and go home to Hightown.

As would he, as soon as he could. He hated this place and hated Anders and wanted to return to his own manor, where no one would bother him and he could really rest.

And then maybe, in time, Hawke would come to see him the way she used to. They could sit together and talk, and he would drink in her presence like a man dying of thirst. For this he would thank every deity in turn, to be with her again after he had almost lost her forever.

He pictured Hawke alive and well, and smiled to himself. Perhaps the beauty of the world was not always destined to be crushed. Some of it would endure no matter what horrors it encountered.

This she had taught him, and he would be able to thank her for it after all.

* * *

Night, and quiet. The healer had long ago left the clinic, extinguishing the lamp that typically burned through the night while he scribbled away at his desk. No candle burned in the window either this night, and without it nothing else illuminated the ramshackle space, not even moonlight.

Fenris dozed in his bed, tucked away behind a partition of boxes and junk that blocked him from the healer's other business. Until a creaking noise alerted him.

It was the door to the one private room in the clinic, the one he had been listening to all through the day as visitors poured in to see the Champion. He had thought all her visitors long departed, but apparently at least one remained. Perhaps it was the healer himself, returning to spend the night with his love. Whoever it might be, they hesitated at the threshold, the wood groaning as they leaned heavily against the rotten door frame.

He heard a voice asking a question to the room. Something about that voice pulled him fully out of sleep, but he couldn't quite place it.

He blinked groggily and watched the flickering glow of a candle dancing along the ceiling.

"Fenris? Are you awake?"

Hawke. It was Hawke.

What in the world was she doing out of bed?

"Fen?" she hissed again, a little louder. "Where are you?"

Then he was listening to himself reply. "Here. I am here."

The light on the ceiling moved, as she held it aloft in every direction, seeking him.

"You're in the quarantine?"

Hawke coughed several times after that, the angry pitch of her voice irritating her throat.

Much as he wanted to see her, he found her coughing alarming. "Go back to bed. Everything is fine."

"I'm coming over."

"Hawke - don't! You should stay in bed!"

But he could already hear her clamoring across the room.

* * *

Hawke had been thoroughly unable to sleep. Even once she had forced herself to stop replaying her argument with Anders over again in her mind, stopped refreshing it with new complaints and worrying over how she would mend this rift between them - even without that, still she could not rest.

Anders had left a candle for her, and as it burned down she grew increasingly anxious. She could not stop thinking of Fenris hurt, in pain, somewhere close by. The thought was yet another wound paining her. It felt like a hole in her chest, one that burned whenever she remembered it.

She hated to think she had caused him pain. He had enough of pain and suffering already; she had long ago willed herself never to add to it. But she had, without even trying.

The thought of it would not let her be, and eventually she knew that she would be unable to rest until she saw him and spoke to him. Sadie needed this, and she needed it right now.

Hawke slid her legs over the side of the bed and dropped to her feet. Although her legs should work fine, she had a surprising difficulty just crossing the room. It felt like walking on stilts. She had to move very slowly and check her balance. Very quickly she tired, and looked around for a place to sit down.

This would be why Anders had told her to stay in bed.

Too late now. She pushed against a makeshift door that lead from her more private space into the rest of the clinic. She meant to do it quietly, but the door creaked outrageously.

"Fenris?" she said softly.

She didn't want to wake him if he slept. But she had no idea where to find him, and she was clearly not up for searching the whole place.

"Fenris?" she tried again, a little louder. "Where are you?"

A sound of movement, and a reluctant groan. "Here. I am here."

She peered around the room. All the beds appeared to be empty. Which left - "You're in the quarantine?" she said indignantly, and coughed.

"Hawke - don't! You should stay in bed!"

Hawke eased herself away from the doorway with agonizing slowness. Unfortunately she would have only one hand for this task, her left arm still bound up in a sling. She set down her candle on a shelf next to the door, to give some semblance of light.

Her back stooped and her balance uncertain, Hawke very slowly stepped from one bed to another, grimacing at the effort. Her wounds were largely healed, but her body was still terribly sore. She stopped to rest at every bedside, furrowing her brow in determination.

"Hawke, go back to bed."

"I climbed out of the Bone Pit with these same injuries, I can certainly get myself across one room," she insisted stubbornly.

It was shockingly difficult. All of the strength she had gotten out of her bed with had sapped away. Privately she wondered if it would be terribly undignified to lie down on the floor for awhile. Stubbornness won out, and Sadie pushed forward.

She stopped at the last bed, her hand upon it an anchor to the rightness of the world. There was only one more length, around the corner, to where Fenris was. But there was a decent chance she would tip over in the process. Which would hardly be a good impression right now. Blast it.

"Maker, I'm going to need a cane to get out of here," she laughed ruefully. "You should see me; I'm an old lady already."

With one last lunge, she stumbled over to the wall, collapsing against it with her good shoulder. Not exactly graceful, but it would do the trick. Before even catching her breath she lunged for the bed where Fenris was pushing himself up to a sitting position, and dumped herself face-first over the end of it, laughing at her own clumsiness.

With his help, she got turned around to sit properly. His hands at her shoulders steadied her.

"I think that's... all the adventure I can handle today..." she wheezed.

Oh, she was stupid to try this; she was already making a fool of herself. She wanted to explain that she'd already talked so much through this very long day that now her throat was raw, that her chest still ached where her broken ribs had constricted her lungs, and that's why she was sitting here like an idiot clearing her throat and saying nothing. That the angry shouting of a few hours ago and the bitterness like a lump in her throat ever since were as much a hindrance as her injuries. But really, despite all appearances, she was fine; in fact, to her surprise, she was wonderful. Just now, when she sat down next to him, she finally believed in her heart that she had come home.

But for now she couldn't get any more words out. She could only stare at Fenris's silhouette, looking for some sign of his own illness. But he seemed steady, and his hands on her shoulders were strong. And they stayed there, reluctant to let go.

_Oh Hawke. For a smart woman, you can be really incredibly dense._

* * *

_Author's note: we are very nearly done with this particular story. There will be a follow-up story, however! So hang on for one more update and then we're on to new territory._


	19. Now My Heart is Full

Fenris gripped at her shoulders as though she would disappear into thin air without him. His thoughts were overcrowded with the things he needed to say to her; he could not choose between them.

This chaos was interrupted when, hesitantly, she raised her good arm to seek him. Rarely had she been able to touch his bare skin, which he tended to keep covered. His hands would normally be sheathed in sharp gauntlets made to tear flesh from bone. Even knowing it was coming the elf could not help but gasp softly as her fingertips touched him. In the dark her fingers traced along his bare arm and came to rest atop his own. Stunned, he let her remove his hand from her, gently, and hold onto it.

It felt strangely intimate, just to touch her hand. A callused, strong hand - a warrior's grip, much like his own. But her hands had comforted just as often as they had harmed; they had protected and guarded so many citizens of Kirkwall more deserving of it, he knew, than he was. Yet in her presence he felt worthy, with the steady, reassuring press of her fingers around his.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like I've been dropped off a cliff repeatedly," Hawke joked without mirth. "Better than I look, though. Don't worry, I landed on my face. It was never my best feature anyway."

Hawke was rambling. She did that when she was nervous. Why was Hawke nervous?

"But how are you?" she asked, squeezing his fingers lightly. "Are you better now?"

"I believe so. Let me..." Reluctantly he pulled away from her, not sure what would happen when he attempted to activate his lyrium. It required conscious effort, but the lyrium brands did light.

Sadie watched him as his tattoos flickered. They lit only dimly, though whether due to a lack of power or reluctance on his part she couldn't tell. The markings provided just enough light to illuminate them both, and for her to see the full path of the lyrium along his bare chest and stomach. She could see the rueful smile he had when they lit, his relief that they still worked and his disgust for them nonetheless. She could see the dark hollows around his eyes that spoke to worry and fear. And see the exhaustion on his face and in his body, that he had been pushed to his very limit by what had happened.

Hawke was reminded of the last time she had been reaching for something under her desk and been startled into standing up suddenly, hitting the back of her head sharply on the table and falling down in a wince. That was the thing her heart had done in her chest, the moment she saw his face.

For his part, when he looked up and saw Sadie's own bruised cheek and scarred face he winced, forgetting to hide his reaction. Still glowing, he studied her with concern.

Hawke blanched at his gaze. "I know it must be hideous. I won't even look for a few more days, I just don't want to know. I've forbidden all mirrors. Banned."

Her rambling ceased as soon as he caught her chin in his hand, lightly, and examined her. "You look far better than the last time I saw you," he mused. "What does the healer say? No permanent injuries?"

"That's what he says." She pulled back from his touch, uncomfortable with such scrutiny. "The arm's going to be out of commission for awhile. But it will mend." She held her breath several seconds before continuing. "That's right, you were there in the Bone Pit when I... came back."

He looked surprised. All at once the brands went out, and they were plunged into dimness again.

"You remember that?"

"Only vaguely." She kicked her feet awkwardly over the side of the bed. "But I've been putting together details from everyone else. I've been hearing you were the only one who never gave up on me."

He felt both pleased and embarrassed. "And where did you hear this?"

"From everyone."

"... That much is true. I knew you would survive." He leaned back against the wall along his bed, watching the shape of her carefully.

Sadie shifted uneasily on the bed. Why was she so nervous? He was one of her closest friends, she had spent more time drinking and talking with Fenris than she had spent with her own sister since they were children. Yet she felt so unsure of herself, suddenly.

"Well, I wanted to say... Thank you for saving me."

She sounded almost shy. It was so unlike her that it caught Fenris off-balance.

"Aveline saved you," he told her honestly. "She was the one who pulled you out."

"But she wouldn't have been there without you."

"Perhaps. But she came to bring the marigolds, as she may have done anyway. And you were nearly there by then."

"I wouldn't have been able to make it without the light. Those little lights that came down, I couldn't see to climb until they came-"

"That was Merrill. It had nothing to do with me."

"Of for the love of - are we really going to argue about this?" Hawke tried to sound stern, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "You - you just sit there and let me thank you. Jerk."

Fenris stopped protesting and smiled up at the ceiling. There were no words for how grateful he was for this moment.

"Thank you, Hawke... for not dying."

"My pleasure," she answered lightly.

Then she forced herself to go on, maneuvering around the lump in her throat to get the question out: "So, I was wondering… How did you know? Why did you wait for me for so long, when everyone else left?"

Fenris was quiet for a long time, trying to arrange a reply that would adequately explain it. He remembered both the calm certainty and the agonizing doubt he had felt as he sat beside the abyss, waiting for some sign of her.

"I did not know for certain," he admitted slowly. "But if you were alive, if there was a chance you were alive... I did not want you to be alone."

It broke her, his quiet devotion.

Because she needed it so very much.

_Not to be alone_... the thought thundered through her, shaking her very bones. How long had she been alone? Possibly always. Even with her own lover she had been alone. That was clearer tonight than ever.

Sadie had to fight hard, now, to restrain the sob she had been holding in. She held herself together so tightly it was making the bed tremble underneath her, and when she felt the bed shift beneath her she thought she would fall to pieces. Literally shatter, like glass.

Then there was Fenris's hand on her back, and she fell into him.

Still, stubbornly, she tried to hold the tears back, even as his arms came around her. She leaned onto him fiercely, more like a wrestling grip than an embrace. Her breath came quickly, in angry gasps. No, she would not fall apart. No.

He stroked her long hair tenderly, and each touch undid her a little more. She almost hated him for it. How dare he be gentle with her. In all the years she had known him, she had never known him to be gentle. He was her strongest companion, unbreakable, unyielding. How could this be the same angry man she very nearly rejected in the Alienage a million years ago? How could he be the same man who carried her broken body back to Kirkwall so carefully? And how had she never noticed this about him?

Her gasps turned into whimpers, and then into sobs. She could not stop crying. It all came tumbling out of her.

It took some time for Hawke to stop crying. She hadn't cried like this since she was a child. Perhaps she had been storing it up all these years. Every time she thought she might at last be through, another sob would choke her and her body would bend under its strain.

When at last the tears began to subside, she found herself telling Fenris the whole story. About being dragged by the leg into a Drake's nest and crawling out of it in the pitch black and realizing that she would have to climb back to the surface herself. About falling into empty space, and being swarmed with dragonlings with no way to fight back. About pulling herself up over and over and over again, for endless hours on end.

This wasn't the version she would later tell in the taverns, to a crowd of onlookers, where the unstoppable Champion climbed a dark mountain with one arm and killed monsters with her bare hands, no sweat. Not this time. In this story she was cold and scared and unsure and more alone than she had ever been in her whole life. She didn't know if she would ever see the light of day again. And all that kept her going was the thought of the people who needed her, and those she needed to be there when she returned.

Daringly Fenris stroked the ends of her long hair, soothingly, as she spoke. And now and again he offered up some details of his own - he spoke of the chill of the underground, of skin against stone, which Hawke knew only too well. He described the cloud of spell wisps that Merrill had summoned, the ones that somehow found her deep below. And he filled in, at the end of her story, the fact that the drakes and dragonlings that had attacked her and suddenly vanished had flooded to the chamber above, where they had slain them all.

Putting their stories beside one another made them both feel better.

"It's funny, I feel like we went through it together..." Hawke said, hesitantly. Her cheek was pressed against his bare chest, and she was finally noticing the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. "You were there with me the whole time. Up there. Breathing the same air. I think I knew it. I thought of you, actually. When I needed the strength to go on. And the whole time you were waiting for me."

Fenris shifted beneath her, and Hawke sat up suddenly. "I'm so sorry for crying all over you. I don't know what got into me."

"Well, you almost died, Hawke. That tends to be stressful."

She smiled gratefully. She hated that she had cried - she counted it as a personal failing, one she would have to make up for. But she had to admit that she did feel an awful lot better now. Relaxed, even.

She wasn't sure what she had been so worried about after all. Fenris was the easiest person in the world to talk to. When he was with you, it was as if there was nothing in the world he would rather be doing at that moment.

Fondly she stared at the dark shape of him next to her, filling in the familiar details in her mind. His hair would be hanging down over his eyes, now, and he would have just the faintest upward quirk to his lips that she had learned to see as a smile.

Dimly, Fenris could make out Hawke watching him intently, with a look on her face that he had never seen before. "Is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.

Hawke kissed him.

She would later rationalize this as a thank-you kiss, a happy-to-be-alive kiss, a I-just-had-a-fight-with-my-boyfriend-and-I-really-need-this kiss. But the truth of it was, she simply wanted to. Without stopping to think it through, she found her way to his mouth in the dark with an ease that seemed magical, and she kissed him.

A giddy feeling bubbled through her, and warmed every part of her that had been cold.

He should have seen it coming. She grasped his arm and leaned over and he should have been ready, but he had never expected, not even a little bit, that Hawke would kiss him. By the time his poor stuttering mind had registered that _Hawke was kissing him _it was already over. She was pulling back with a surprised look on her face, as if he had been the one to do this impossible thing that she had done herself.

"Oh flames..." she said, shocked. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Fenris said it immediately and emphatically.

"I just..." She laughed a little, sounding both horrified and excited, in a way that made perfect sense.

"Yes," he said simply. Yes to everything. Yes.

"I can't."

"Anders." He hated the name, and saying the name. But it had to be said.

"Yeah," she whispered.

Strangely, the thought of Anders no longer filled Fenris with bitterness and longing. He felt good. Hawke had kissed him, and he felt good. Fantastic, actually. Anything was possible.

"If you ever..." he started to say.

"Yes. I mean," Sadie put her head in her hands, still giddy and upset and now utterly overwhelmed. "I can't right now. But yes."

It wasn't necessary to explain any more. They both understood.

"Well." Hawke sighed and looked up at the ceiling, where the last of the candlelight was guttering and preparing to go out. "I am so incredibly tired, and walking all the way back to my bed is going to be too much work."

"What did I tell you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Move over." Hawke pulled her feet onto the bed and lied down next to Fenris. It was not a large bed, and it would have been unbearable had they not both been exhausted beyond all measure. Too tired to really think about what she was doing, Hawke pulled his arm around her and held on. It felt nice.

Fenris lay beside her and let her pull his arm around her waist, to really hold her. A wonderful feeling, and for once he felt that he had earned something pleasurable.

"Fen?" She said cautiously, not sure how to say the thing she needed to say. "I... I'm glad you're okay. When I heard you've been. That you were terribly ill. From trying to help me, I keep thinking... Earlier I was lying in my bed and thinking, what if I'd woken up here and found you were- I don't know what I'd do if-" Her throat tightened, and she couldn't finish her thought.

Touched at this concern, Fenris squeezed her comfortingly. He certainly didn't want her to start crying again.

"_dormiat neces tu_, Hawke," he spoke into her ear.

She grinned. "One of these days, I am getting a book of Arcanum, and I'm going to figure out what you're saying to me. For all I know you're comparing me to an orlesian cow."

He laughed softly. "I said you need sleep, Hawke."

"Aha. Door-me-at. You need some of that door-me-at too, Fen."

_"utinam erat non a ordinis ignavus."_ He brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear before continuing. _"Post hoc volui diligenter veritatem dico vobis. te amo._

"Hmm?" Hawke said drowsily. She loved to listen to him talk, especially when he spoke another language and she could just enjoy the beauty of his voice.

_"Amo te ex toto corde meo."_

"Amo te ex toto co- what was that?" She looked over her shoulder at him, and saw his eyes widen.

To hear those words from her lips, words that had never been spoken for him... it made his heart pound, even if she didn't know she was saying.

"Say it again," he requested, fervently.

"Amo te ex meo corde... was that right?"

"Yes. Very close. Yes." He held her tighter, and buried his face in her blonde hair.

Sadie looked back at him quizzically. She knew she had pleased him, but not why. "But what does it mean?"

"... I will tell you someday."

She sighed. "Lucky for you I'm so sleepy. I'll get it out of you eventually."

Fenris laid awake a long time, holding on to her. Alive and well and in his arms. If this was to be a reward for his ordeal in the Bone Pit, it was enough. It was more than enough.

And then, at last, he slipped into a sweet and dreamless sleep.

* * *

*end*

* * *

_My lazy Arcanum is courtesy of Google Translate. It says, roughly:_

dormiat neces tu = you need to sleep

utinam erat non a ordinis ignavus = I wish that I was not a craven coward.

Post hoc volui diligenter veritatem dico vobis. te amo = Then I would be able to tell you the truth. I love you.

Amo te ex toto corde meo = I love you with all my heart

_Thank you to all of my faithful reviewers: PenguinRegina, xZoex, Enchanter T.I.M., Aya001, LifeandFire25, paulaHandGJ, Frazi, stripedwolf, CommanderHawke667, and everyone else!_

_Hope you've enjoyed this, and I'll start putting up a follow-up story after a short break._


End file.
